


Thaw

by Thishouseisaflyingcircus



Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Indie Music RPF, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thishouseisaflyingcircus/pseuds/Thishouseisaflyingcircus
Summary: Alex planned on a lot of things while snowbound in the cabin and cut off from the outside world.He planned to reset his mind to a better time when his fears and doubts didn't consume and cripple him.He planned to work through his stubborn writer's block and he planned to chart out the future, not only for himself, but for the band, as well.Alex never planned on having guests.





	1. Chapter 1

Alex could count, on one hand, the number of times in his life that he felt he had made the right decision.

This was one of them.

He placed a log on the fire and stood back to watch the burning beast welcome his latest sacrifice, licking and swirling its searing pleasure around the wood, glowing a spectrum of blues and oranges in appreciation. Alex sighed, nodding slowly, feeling the rush of newly-warmed air whoosh towards him as the wood finally ignited and made its eager contribution to the existing flames.

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

_God, he loved being here!_

He hadn't felt this happy and relaxed in a very, very long time.

It had been the right decision, and amazingly, _he_ had been the one who made it.

At first, Alex worried that his loved ones would be concerned with his outlandish proposal, but to his surprise, they weren't. In fact, they had encouraged him, fueling his fear that he hadn't been keeping his anxiety as well-hidden as he had hoped.

The last incident, the one where the walls closed in on him and left him waiting to die, had forced him into making some crucial decisions about himself, and his life.

 

The band had recently finished an incredibly successful tour, the longest and most encompassing of their careers, and his friends had quickly ferreted off to their little corners of the world, using the downtime to not only enjoy themselves, but to also start building their families.

Alex had desperately needed the break, needed to see if he could shake his writer's block, hoping it was due to the lengthy tour. But as time passed and his notebooks remained empty, it became clear to Alex that he alone was the problem, not his surroundings nor anything else.

_He was to blame._

_And everyone was counting on him._

Alex knew that their record label would soon be pressuring him for a taste of the next album, expecting a morsel of yet another number one award-winner, and he had nothing.

_Not a fuckin' thing._

 

Alex couldn't bring himself to tell Matt, Jamie, and Nick, the people he loved most in the world, that for well over a year now, he couldn't even write a simple fucking sentence.

He knew he wouldn't be able to handle their disappointment and anger, and he was terrified that once they heard the news, they'd realize that he wasn't worth their time, or their love. It was his greatest fear.

_He was nothing without his writing._

_It was the only thing he was good at._

_He had nothing else to offer._

So, Alex had kept quiet, hoping to resolve the problem on his own, but keeping the secret was a beast eating him from the inside out.

 

For Alex, being alone had always been the most difficult part of being off tour.

He hated returning to his lonely house with its bare cupboards and empty refrigerator. He hated the stagnant air that sat unstirred in every room and corner.

He hated the nothingness.

While on tour, they were told when and where to go, and where and what they'd be eating. It was always a tough transition for Alex going back to being the one making simple, daily decisions.

Now, with the tour over, one day would seep into the next and Alex had no focus, nothing to keep his mind busy, and when he did try to write, he was overcome with frustration and guilt.

With his confidence shattered and his bandmates off building their nests, Alex tried to fill the lonely void and soon found himself surrounded by a slick herd of LA opportunists, those who weren't successful on their own merits and who survived by leeching off others. One acquaintance quickly became two, and then two became four, and four became eight, and before Alex knew it, he was spiraling in a house full of strangers.

Alex initially welcomed the company and their frenetic pace, fraught with endless partying and faceless sex, anything to help keep his mind off his inability to write. He liked that these people didn't care whether he could write anymore, they only cared about what he had to offer - his celebrity and his money.

Despite being adrift in a sea of people, Alex had never felt lonelier and he missed his band of brothers. But he'd made a silent promise that he would distance himself from his friends once the tour ended, to give them their much-needed space, and that he wouldn't invade their picturesque homes despite their constant invitations for him to visit.

He wasn't going to be _that_ guy in the group, the terminally single loser who crashed their perfect little paradises, invited but secretly unwelcomed.

 

The latest incident had made it perfectly clear that not only did Alex need to be culled from the toxic group that was leading him down a destructive path, he also needed help with his emotional and mental stability.

He and the band had been going strong for over fifteen years, and the pressure and stress of it all had finally caught up.

Alex needed a break.

They had _all_ needed a break.

Even months later, Alex could still feel the desperation and how everything suddenly closed in on him, the memory still causing Alex's palms to sweat, his body to tremble, and his breathing to hitch.

 

"So, Alex, are you currently writing for the next album or are you taking a cue from your fellow bandmates and concentrating on your personal life?"

Alex's chest drew tight as he shifted in his seat and feigned a smile, nodding politely at the woman, not a hint of emotion crossing his face or sliding through his lips.

By now, Alex could answer these questions by rote, but this one, _this one_ , felt like a perfectly-timed bullet aimed right at him, ripping through his flesh. Of course the first question had to be _that_ question, _that fuckin' question_ , the one question that felt as though she were poking her fingers deep into the two wounds he was bleeding from the most.

Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised.

It was the same question he always heard, just a different city, a different person, and a different location - this time a swank, Middle Eastern-themed boutique hotel in downtown LA.

 

In his usual style, Alex took time to ponder his response.

He glanced out the wall of windows that lined the hotel lobby, noticing several people on the other side who had suddenly stopped, and one was pointing in, at him.

_Fuckin' pointing at him._

Having now recognized Alex, the others outside began excitedly taking pictures, tapping on the window, laughing, and waving as though he were an animal in a zoo.

_A fuckin' animal._

_In a fuckin' zoo._

Alex looked at the interviewer again, with her pasted-on smile as she waited patiently, and he mused that she must be familiar with his notoriously long silences. He laughed to himself that she'd taken the time to get some background information on him, but not enough time to come up with an original fucking question.

Alex opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it.

_I can't answer that question because I don't fuckin' know myself. You see, I'm all alone and haven't been able to write a goddamned thing in over a year._

 

Alex cleared his throat, made a motion with his hand, and leaned uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes shifting from the gathering crowd at the windows to the lounge area.

He scanned the room adorned with richly-colored tapestries and silk rugs, stopping when he made direct eye contact with a gorgeous woman about his age.

She was sitting with a much older man and obviously not listening to him, but twirling the huge diamond wedding ring around her slender finger and eyeing Alex instead, her gaze lingering and slowly sizing him up and down, rubbing her long legs together like a cricket calling for a mate, just waiting for Alex to give her a sign, a smile, a nod, _anything_ , and she would meet him anywhere, for whatever he wanted, no strings attached, eager for a momentary change of pace from her boring, entitled world.

_Jesus. Is this it? Is this my fuckin' life?_

 

Alex's mouth went dry and he felt his chest tightening further, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs. He tried, but was having difficulty dragging air back in.

 _I have no one_.

He thought of his bandmates, all happy with their wives and girlfriends, all with beautiful babes in their arms, planning their futures, enjoying the fruits of their hard-earned labor.

He then looked at the group who had accompanied him to the hotel. They were a pathetic lot, trying so hard to look edgy and hip, as if they didn't care about the way they dressed or acted, and they were failing miserably, coming across as totally fake and pretentious. He didn't even know half their names and was pretty sure half of them didn't even know his.

But there they sat, on cushioned diwaniya seats, laughing, smoking shisha, and ordering food and drinks, and, _Christ_ , it was 9:00 in the morning and they were already drinking, and he knew the bill would be coming to him.

Alex tried to swallow down the dry, burning lump that was rapidly expanding in his throat.

_How did this happen?_

_Why did he allow these people into his life?_

_I have no one._

 

Alex's lungs were now demanding more air, but he found that he could only take in shallow breaths. His head was spinning and he felt sweat gathering along his upper lip and lower back. His hands trembled as he leaned forward and took a shaky sip of his minted tea, trying to smile, sure it was coming out more like a grimace.

Once again, he glanced at the wall of windows and the crowd that had gathered out of nowhere, all taking pictures of him.

He glanced back at his "friends" who had just broken out in annoyingly loud laughter, exposing their disrespect and classlessness and how much they really didn't belong there.

And how much Alex didn't belong with them.

 _I have no one_.

 

The interviewer grew tired and shifted awkwardly in her seat, and he knew he had kept her waiting too long. He looked up at her and felt her eyes piercing into his very soul.

_She knows my secret._

_She knows I can't write anymore._

_She's going to tell everyone._

Alex lost it. He could hear his own heartbeat, thundering loud and fast, and he wondered if she could hear it, too, and then he realized she was speaking, but he couldn't hear her, couldn't make her words out, they were coming out garbled, like the adults on the Peanuts cartoons, _waa, wa, waa, wa, wa_.

Panic was quickly setting in, so, Alex, the musical poet and acclaimed voice of his generation, pushed out an answer to her question.

All eloquence.

All lyrical genius.

"I... _uh_...I...yeah... _no_...I dunno... _sorry_..."

 

And with that, Alex stood and escaped to the elevators, slipping in just as the doors were closing, ready to take him to another floor where no one could follow.

He struggled for more air, the very small amounts he could manage were wheezing hot into his paralyzed lungs as his trembling fingers pulled out his mobile and moved frantically across the screen.

Alex stumbled from the lift and nearly dropped the phone before catching it and plastering it snugly to his ear, his body slumping against and then sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the richly carpeted floor of the corridor.

The other line picked up immediately, and Alex could hear the warm smile in Matt's voice.

"Alex! We were just talking about you, mate...where've you been hiding?"

Alex shook as he concentrated on holding the phone, his body fighting for oxygen. He forced himself to suck in a shallow breath of air and pushed out a whisper.

"I can't do this anymore..."

 

" _Alex_...where are you?" Matt demanded calmly, but those around him heard the concern in his voice.

Alex's head was spinning as he tried to remember, he desperately searched the garish wallpaper and the huge, ornate mirrors before his eyes landed on a framed photo of minarets.

"The... _The Safir_...Matt... _I_...I think I'm at The Safir..." His voice started rising when he realized he didn't even know where he was.

And this was where he was going to die.

Because Alex was sure he was going to die.

Because his lungs no longer worked.

And he was going to die alone.

Because he had no one.

_I'm worthless._

 

Alex couldn't stop shaking.

Everything around him was tunneled and fuzzy, dark on the edges, and the air was thickening and refusing to move. His chest felt crushed and useless, and the little air he was pulling in was not near enough, his lungs were on fire.

"Don't move, Alex...stay right where you are...it's going to be okay... _Alex_ , can you hear me? _Fuck!_ Alex! Alex!"

The pounding of blood in his ears was making it difficult to hear, but he could still make out Matt's voice, faraway and muffled, but still demanding and forceful as it kept repeating his name. Alex heard the worry in Matt's voice and realized that, even in his death, he was still letting everyone down, leaving them to clean up the messes he had made.

The air was thick, too thick to swallow, and his lungs were screaming for him to do something, but he couldn't, couldn't get any air where it needed to go.

 

"I'm so sorry... _I can't_...anymore...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." He gasped into a whimper, tears streaming down his face.

" _Jesus Christ!_ Alex! Don't move... _okay? Alex?_ We're on our way! Alex!" Matt barked out his name, but the ache consuming Alex's body wouldn't allow him to respond. He dropped the phone without ending the call and clutched his chest while he concentrated on his breathing, trying to help the air fight its way into his lungs.

Alex didn't even have to question who was on their way.

He already knew.

So he waited and breathed, waited and breathed, and waited and breathed as he sat there, alone and afraid, waiting and breathing for Matt, Jamie, and Nick to come.

Because they were always there for him.

 _Always_.

And that one thought comforted Alex as the pain floated away and the darkness came.

 

Alex never returned to his house.

Their agent had performed immediate damage control over the botched interview by offering the abandoned interviewer an exclusive including a photo session with all four band members when their new album dropped, as long as nothing was leaked about Alex's behavior. 

The woman had happily agreed, the bait dangling in front of her was far tastier than a quick piece about a jittery and reticent rockstar rudely walking out on her. Those articles were a dime a dozen and, quite honestly, were expected in the music world. But to get all four Monkeys in a room together, with pics, was an event that harkened back to their early days, and she wanted it.

Alex's parents had urged him to come home to Sheffield, but Jamie and Nick were staying at Matt's for the summer, so it just made sense for him to do the same.

Matt, Nick, and Jamie had been the ones who returned to his house, to find it looted and vandalized. The group Alex had left behind in the hotel must have sensed their money tree was drying up and decided to grab anything of value they could find, damaging the property out of spite in the process.

Fortunately, most of Alex's musical equipment and wardrobe was stored at the band's studio, but Alex did lose some very sentimental items, pieces not only important to him but also to the band, and the guilt over that only added to his current state and made everything even harder to bear.

Anything worth saving was moved into storage, the rest was trashed, and Alex instructed his agent to sell the house, wanting to distance himself further from his bad choices and the memories they held.

 

At his loved ones' urging, Alex saw a doctor, had a full check-up, and was thankfully given a clean bill of health, despite his reckless behavior.

He collapsed into Matt's arms, sobbing, just over a week later when he read the final test results aloud, the other three silently choking up and hugging him tight, knowing he had gotten very lucky.

He started seeing a therapist soon after and the guys had even accompanied him, several times as a group and each with him individually. It felt good to finally talk, not only to them, but also to someone objective who could help parse his emotions and feelings, to work through what was real and what Alex had conjured on his own.

It was helping.

After several months, Alex had a better grasp on things and mentioned to his therapist that he wanted some time alone, to try to write. Writing had always been a comforting outlet, something he connected with and loved, his stream of dopamine. When he lost his innate ability to put thoughts onto paper, crippling doubt eagerly flooded his vulnerable psyche, and it nurtured his self-doubt while poisoning his confidence.

Alex suggested that if he could start writing again, he would be even more in control and better prepared to handle any negative thoughts his mind produced.

His doctor had agreed.

 

They waited for Alex's outbound flight in the first-class lounge, off in a corner area partially concealed by privacy walls and lush greenery.

Alex sat on the sleek, leather couch, his hands twisting in his lap as he looked distractedly around the room, trying his best to avoid eye contact with his friends, trying his best to convince himself that his eyes were stinging only because he had forgotten to blink.

He was leaning into Nick, whose comforting arm snaked around Alex's shoulders, squeezing them occasionally, while Jamie sat opposite them, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, chewing on a hangnail, one leg bouncing out of control.

And Matt, Matt was up and down, pacing the small area like a caged animal one minute, then sliding onto the couch beside Alex the next, his hand covering Alex's in a tight grip.

 

They were mostly quiet, everything that needed to be said had come out in therapy or in the days directly after they had found Alex crumpled and lost in the hallway of the hotel - a small, fragile version of the boy they used to know.

At first, Alex had tried to make light of the incident, writing it off as exhaustion, but the guys knew him better than anyone else in his life and they knew he wasn't telling the whole story.

They gently pressed, and Alex caved.

He was tired, so damned tired of making stupid decisions and keeping secrets, and he finally found the courage to tell them about the writer's block, his fear for the band's future, and the dangerous lifestyle choices he had been making.

Alex was worried about their reactions and whether they would be yelling and disappointed, or angry and disgusted.

He deserved all of it.

And he needed it.

He needed them to yell and blame and punish and hate him, but they didn't.

They _had_ been angry, not because of his lack of writing and the effects it may have on the band, but because he hadn't come to them when he needed them most. They were worried that Alex felt worthless, and alone.

And Alex hated it, because _he_ was the one who put that look of fear and worry in their eyes. No matter how much small talk they made or jokes they cracked, the silent concern remained on their brows, in their eyes, and in the way they held their bodies, and he hated that.

 

Alex's hands trembled as he looked around the lounge.

He wanted to say something before he left, to reassure them that this thing, this writer's block, was just temporary and that he'd write some new material and the band was going to be okay, but Alex had no answers, and he wasn't even sure who he'd be trying to convince more, his bandmates or himself.

"I'm so... _so sorry._..I've let you all down..." He muttered, shaking his head.

"Hush up, Alex...you know this isn't about us...or the band...it's about you getting better..." Matt nervously ran his free hand through his hair, the other squeezing Alex's hand even tighter.

Alex swallowed heavily and looked away, his vision starting to blur.

"We want you to get healthy...and feel better...about everything...fuck the band...fuck it all..." Nick murmured, his arm pulling Alex in closer.

"Yep...fuck it all..." Jamie smiled. "We want our old Al back...with or without new fuckin' material...I'll start writing the fuckin' songs if I have to..."

Alex rolled his wet eyes and grinned while Matt and Nick groaned out curses.

" _What?_ I didn't say I was gonna _sing_ the fuckin' songs!" Jamie smiled into a fake scowl, happy he was able to lighten the mood.

 

A woman popped her head into the lounge area and quietly let them know that Alex's plane was about to pre-board, prompting them all to stand up, shifting and straightening their clothes to distract them from their impending goodbye.

Nick and Jamie drew Alex in and held him tight, whispering their love and encouragement in his ear as he nodded quickly, trying not to listen to their words, trying to ignore the burn behind his eyes. They stepped back and left Alex standing alone, looking small and lost as he held his worn, leather travel bag, his wide eyes looking up at Matt, pleading for contact, pleading for forgiveness.

Matt hadn't liked the idea of Alex leaving and was reluctant to say goodbye, but he finally sighed and pulled Alex into a warm hug, speaking softly but loud enough for them all to hear.

"We love you, Alex...all we want is for you to get better...and if that means we stop making music, so be it...you are more important to us than the band... _okay?_ If nothing comes out of this time away, it's all good, man...all we need is you...as much as you need us...we love you..."

Alex started sobbing.

Matt didn't let go.

 

They finally separated and Alex brushed off his tears before turning towards the boarding tunnel. As the flight attendant gently steered him onward, Alex glanced back once more at his three friends, all huddled together and watching him, their sad smiles trying to hide their worried eyes. 

As Alex made his way towards the plane, a crippling sense of uncertainty rushed through him, unhinging him briefly as his eyes gently burned and his chest softly tightened.

Maybe this decision to run away from his problems was sealing not only his fate, but the fate of the band as well.

Maybe it was also sealing the fate of his friendship with Matt, Jamie, and Nick.

Maybe things were never going to be the way they were, ever again.

By walking away from his troubles, maybe Alex was also walking away from his friends.

 

And now Alex was here, placing another log on the fire in the cabin his parents had owned since he was young, one that had been in his family for generations.

He loved the place, this near wild heaven.

Formerly a modest hunting lodge, the cabin was located on several hundred acres of extremely isolated and forested land, hours away from the nearest town. It was nestled on the gentle slope of a mountain, in seemingly endless waves of mountains, some so tall and rising so sharply that the tree line stopped the trees and left their rocky peaks bare and jutting towards the heavens, displaying a myriad of breathtaking colors and textures.

A treeless valley unfolded in front of the cabin, encircled by a line of dense pines far away, along its perimeter. A creek divided the open plain, rushing its way to a large lake a mile or so down the mountain. It had been the perfect spot for hunting long ago, an expansive clearing in the middle of the forest, the water drawing the animals in droves from the protection of the mountains and the trees.

Forest and low bushes surrounded the cabin on its other three sides, the vegetation had been cut back for fire mitigation, leaving ample, level ground before the forest took over once again. One side had enormous stacks of firewood in various stages of drying while the other hosted a smaller outbuilding, once used to prepare and preserve the meat before the long trek down into town, but now used as a storage shed, housing a snowmobile, tools, etc.

At the back of the cabin, the mountain ascended quickly, reaching for the sky, dense with boulders and trees.

 

The cabin's layout was simple, boasting one great room that included the kitchen, the living room, and the sleeping area. It was filled with wonderfully comfortable furnishings, the epitome of rustic luxury - dark, worn leather, antique woods, opulent bedding - all framed by a huge, stone fireplace that was the central focus of the room.

Alex remembered spending many summers of his youth here, running through the woods and climbing the trees, catching frogs in the creek and watching the wildlife stroll by the deck, and sleeping in front of the fire on cool summer nights and sometimes crawling into the large, sumptuous bed with his parents on the chillier ones.

Yes, this cabin held some of Alex's fondest childhood memories.

 

His favorite part of the cabin was the covered, wraparound deck.

Originally, the deck was small and had only accommodated the front of the cabin, but when the property came into his parents' possession, his mom had demanded a generator and modern amenities, a decent bathroom, and she wanted the deck to run around the entire cabin so that they could move with the sun during the day, with the breezes as they changed course, and with the views of the trees, mountains, and valley.

Alex fondly remembered when he and his parents, plus Matt, Jamie, and Nick spent over a month up here one summer, building the new deck. There were sore muscles, hammered fingers, and splinters galore as the young boys worked under his parents' tutelage, but they got it done, and it was impressive.

_God! They weren't even in their teens, yet._

After that, the guys would make several trips there every summer, spending most of their time on that deck, snugged up in sleeping bags, hanging out, playing darts and dice and cards, and talking about guy stuff on one side while his parents sat, sipping their tea and reading on the other.

Then the band took off and their schedules became busier and busier, and they never had the chance to return.

But the memories were still there.

And they were all good ones.

 

The only drawback to the cabin was that during the winter, when the cold and snow mercilessly gripped the high country, the access roads would close permanently until spring.

It was too costly to plow the long, barren stretches of winding mountain roads for a handful of cabins that were hidden away, and there was always the potential of avalanches, so the roads weren't maintained, which left the cabin unreachable until the deep snow began to melt.

And that is what Alex had proposed to his parents.

He wanted to arrive before the heavy snows set in and stay through the winter's worst, roughly six months, emerging only when the snow let up and the land began its slow thaw.

Alex wanted to be alone, snowbound and cut off from the outside world, a heavy world that was suddenly pushing down too hard on him, making it hard to breathe.

His parents had given him their blessings.

 

Alex arranged the logs with the poker and soon the fire roared, snapping and crackling.

He smiled and stepped back from the heat, sinking into the familiar comfort of the old, leather couch, happy to be there in a place that meant so much to him.

It had already been a busy few weeks since he arrived - he had made many long trips into the nearest town to stock up on food and supplies, had begun the process of preparing wood for burning, had serviced the generator, and had fixed the door to the outbuilding, which had been torn open and rummaged through by some animal, probably a bear, no doubt searching for easy food during the last days before hibernation.

It was a good kind of busy, the right kind of busy, keeping his hands and mind occupied.

 

Alex definitely felt more in control, living solely off the constant decisions he had to make. If he didn't do it, it didn't get done, and there was nothing nor anyone to fall back on, no one else to blame.

He would eagerly scribble down lists the night before of the things he wanted to accomplish the next day, and he'd feel an overwhelming sense of satisfaction the following evening, the tasks having transitioned from written to reality, checked off and completed.

Because of him.

His confidence was growing.

 

Alex felt at peace and hoped in his heart that only good would come from his decision to stay through the winter.

Everything just seemed so much better here.

The food tasted better and everything smelled better, too.

His head was certainly much clearer and his body ached, but in a good way.

He was also sleeping more soundly, tired from the honest day's work he had put in.

Alex hoped that being here was going to give him a chance to reset to a time when his fears and doubts didn't consume him and his creativity flowed. He wanted to start writing again and he wanted to chart out plans for the future, not only for the band, but for himself, as well.

A future that he wanted.

A future he deserved.

Alex hoped that when the thaw came, he would emerge from this place a better person with his future spread out before him, ready to be taken, ready to be enjoyed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alex could feel the shift, and could barely contain his nervous excitement over it.

There was now a pronounced chill in the air, autumn had finished its task and winter was definitely coming, and Alex found himself adding extra layers of clothing and gradually spending less time out on the deck and more time inside by the fire.

After many weeks of preparation and getting settled into a routine, Alex was ready.

He had no worries about the season's first storm that was headed his way, the one that would undoubtably block him in for the rest of the season - he had plenty of food, adequate shelter, and a forest's worth of logs split and within easy reach right outside the cabin's door, and even more piles beyond that.

He was ready.

There was no turning back.

Whatever the winter months were going to bring and whatever surprises were in store, Alex felt that he was as prepared as he could possibly be, ready to face it all head-on.

He was concerned about Boone, though.

 

Alex shook his head as he leaned over the kitchen sink to peer out the small window there, his eyes scanning the property's perimeter trees and bushes until they spotted her.

Her sharp, black ears perked up as she lay hidden among the foliage, and she slowly lifted her head and looked directly at Alex, sensing his eyes on her.

Her tail twitched.

Alex certainly hadn't planned on this, on having an animal constantly in his thoughts, but he now found her unexpected presence comforting.

He wasn't really sure what she was, this big, black beauty that was suddenly a part of his daily life. She had many of the same features as a German Shepherd but because of her imposing size, she might be part wolf or another breed of dog, or a mix of many, Alex didn't know, he wasn't an expert on these sorts of things.

All he knew was that she was the most beautiful and mysterious creature he had ever seen.

 

She had appeared out of nowhere about a month after Alex arrived.

He had been on the deck, trying to write, unsuccessfully, and had just slammed his empty notebook shut with a sharp curse, frustrated that everything was going so well, except his writing.

He still had nothing.

_Not a fuckin' thing._

Maybe this hadn't been such a good decision after all.

Maybe he was wasting his time here playing mountain man when he should be back in LA with the band, trying to write.

Maybe, once again, he had fucked up.

Alex's chest tightened slightly as he focused on his breathing, trying to keep it steady.

 

The sudden movement in the bushes had caused Alex to forget the hitch in his breath as he automatically jumped to his feet, thinking it was a small bear, seeing only its silhouette moving among the pine branches.

It wouldn't have been the first bear sighting at the cabin.

Bears and their cubs were seen quite often, almost daily, especially during the warmer months. And it was a reasonable guess that a bear had been rummaging around the outbuilding at some point before Alex's arrival, damaging it and making a general mess in the process. So it was no surprise that it was a bear, but with hibernation now in full swing, seeing one at this time was a rarity.

As Alex moved to go indoors and give the bear a wide berth, he zeroed in on the area for one last glimpse and then he did a double take, realizing the animal in question was actually a dog, or a wolf, or a combination of both, he didn't know.

 

He paused, stunned into place at the sight of the creature as it emerged from the cover of the woods and stood there, stoic and calm, eyeing him.

He caught a glimpse of a worn and dirty rope circling tightly around her neck and buried into her dense, black fur. A frayed piece of it dangled down, nearly touching the ground.

Alex relaxed a little.

So, she _was_ a dog.

Probably someone's pet.

Why else would she have a rope around her neck?

He knew there were no inhabitants even remotely nearby and that the dog must have traveled a very long way, more miles than less, a lot more, to reach his isolated cabin.

" _Well, well_...what brings you here, darlin'?" Alex whispered, already enchanted by her beauty, already intrigued by her unknown story.

 

Alex didn't know that the dog had been watching him from a distance for several weeks before she emerged from the woods that day.

She first heard him before she even saw him, her ears listening to his pickup truck making its way over the loose dirt, far down the mountain, over a mile off. By the time the truck finally pulled up to the cabin, she had abandoned the deck she was fond of napping on and had escaped to the trees. And from that point on, she had been studying Alex, the man totally, frighteningly unaware.

She watched as he unloaded the truck and stayed busy moving about the area, in and out of the buildings, hammering and hauling, fixing and securing.

She watched as he ate his meals on the deck while she ate too, from the cover of the woods, pulling apart and devouring the warm meat of a freshly-killed rabbit.

She watched as he sometimes drove away for an entire day, returning much later to start unloading his truck all over again.

She watched as he hiked through the woods, staying close enough to smell and hear and see him, but far enough so that he thought he was alone.

She watched as he sat on the deck, staring at his notebook, and she smelled deep pain and frustration wafting from his body as he sat motionless, helplessly looking at it. It was during those times, when she sensed his suffering and need for companionship, that something deep within her begged to go to the human, but she wasn't dumb.

There was a reason why she was in the woods now, far away from human contact.

 

The dog knew all too well about his kind - humans - an inferior and weak breed, with poor eyes, poor ears, and poor noses, unable to sense when they were being so closely watched, stalked, and hunted.

She was extremely wary of his kind.

Humans were the ones who kept them chained, controlling her small pack, which consisted of her, her mother, and her brother.

Humans were the providers who never gave them enough to eat, occasionally throwing a scrap of food their way and then laughing as they snarled and fought each other over it.

Humans were the abusers who kicked and hit them in anger and kept them in cages or tied on short ropes, controlling their freedom.

Humans were the ones who sold her brothers and sisters or forced them to fight other dogs.

She knew no other world and nothing else but the cruelty she and her kind had suffered at the hands of humans, so she judged all humans by the actions of a few.

Humans were not to be trusted.

Humans were to be avoided.

 

Because of relentless hunger and her youth, the dog had begun chewing on the heavy rope that bound her tightly around the neck, the fiber temporarily lessening her hunger pains.

Eventually, the rope was gnawed completely through. At first, she remained close to her mother and brother, and the humans remained oblivious to the severed rope, but at night, while the men slept, she would leave the camp and go off into the woods. She relished the moonlit runs, the burn in her unused muscles, and her full belly from the small prey she hunted, but she always returned in the early light of morning with a small offering of food for her pack, and she curled up close to them while they ate, staying near so the humans never realized she was free.

Her mother and brother began pulling and chewing on the restraints that held them, to no avail.

She had been lucky to be roped, not chained.

 

As she was returning one dawn, her senses sharpened and sent her a warning before she entered the camp, telling her to stay away, to stay hidden.

She paced nervously and lingered among the trees, smelling the overwhelming fear and desperation on the humans as they ran chaotically around and yelled at each other frantically. Their chaos caused her mother and brother to start barking wildly, sensing their panic, knowing something was amiss.

The humans tried to quiet the barking dogs for fear of being discovered from whatever it was that they were hiding from, but they had no luck, and one of the men finally ran into the camper and returned with a gun which he used to quickly silence them. The gun's unexpected noise made her yelp and jump back before she fled deeper into the trees, sensing the loss, smelling nothing but blood and death. The men finished loading up their truck before tearing off down the dirt road, abandoning what was left of their camp.

It was then that the dog slowly approached her family and buried her nose deep into their fur, whining and nudging them, skittishly pacing around their bodies, looking for signs of the animals she once knew.

There were none.

Her head lifted and her ears pricked at the sound of many vehicles, still far off, but headed in her direction. She knew she had to leave.

Now.

To survive.

A wave of primordial instincts rushed over her and she let out a haunting, mourning howl for her mother and brother, for the pack she had lost, and then she whined as she turned and raced to the safety of the woods.

Away from humans.

 

She had been alone for months now, living off the land as she was meant to, becoming a great predator, transforming from lean and bony to strong and full, the constant source of prey she tracked and killed nourishing her and filling out her gaunt body, giving her strength she had never known.

She thrived.

She owned the woods, knew every inch, every tree, every rock, every smell, every creature.

She was finally free and now a powerful beast that roamed the woods, a primal force to be reckoned with, a predator to be feared.

And she would never be contained by anything ever again, especially humans.

 

Later that day, after the dog's first appearance, Alex absentmindedly opened his notebook and jotted down a few ideas about instinct, the wild, freedom, opportunity, and questioning the unknown.

He had been so focused on capturing the thoughts running through his head, that he didn't realize what he was doing.

That he was _actually_ writing.

And that they were the first words he had written in a very long time.

He went over them again and again, teetering on giddiness at the few scribbled lines on paper. And if he happened to open the journal and read the words every time he passed by the notebook, just to make sure that they were actually there, and then grinned like a fool when he saw them... _well_ , nobody was there to see.

Alex was beyond elated, and hope swelled in his chest.

It wasn't enough to declare himself past his writer's block, but it was a start, enough to build his confidence, and the ideas of where he could further take what he had written were beginning to web through his mind.

Just like old times.

 

After a few days, when it was clear that the dog was sticking around, Alex decided to name her Boone.

Somehow, the name fit.

She had been a boon to him in his time of need, a kind of muse to his writing. She was also a strong, self-sufficient beast, a thing of beauty, a product of nature in its purest form, rising from the backwoods, from the boondocks.

So, Boone it was.

Despite her sinister looks, Alex soon learned that Boone was very jumpy and seemed extremely mistrusting of humans. If he made any move towards her or looked in her direction a little too long, she would run off into the trees, disappearing for a few hours, sometimes even a few days.

She never approached him, preferring to watch him go about his business from afar.

Alex was okay with that.

Her presence alone, even if far away, was mystifying, and strangely comforting.

 

Soon after discovering Boone, Alex made his weekly radio call to the nearest forest ranger watchtower to check in. The tower was his only contact with the outside world and was located many mountainous miles away, only seen clearly through binoculars.

Over the years, his family had become friends with the locals in the town far below, meeting them while getting supplies, and even invited to the town's various events. Alex fondly remembered driving down for some type of celebration, only to return much later that night, his sleepy head slumped on either his dad's shoulder or in his mum's lap as they made the very long, midnight drive back to the cabin.

It was a welcoming and tight knit community and the rangers were no exception, the majority of them lived in the town, had even grown up there, or in very close proximity.

 

"Watchtower 12, this is Cabin Down Below, you copy?"

Static rang through the airwaves for a moment before Alex received a reply.

"This is Watchtower 12, you're coming in loud and clear, Cabin Down Below. Alex! How are you, mate?"

Alex smiled warmly, the familiar voice filling his heart with warmth. Andy was a good friend and came from a long line of rangers. He and Alex had often hung out at the town's events, away from the crazy adults who were dancing to lame 80s music.

"Andy! Was hoping it were you this time, mate. How are you?"

"Can't complain. Was surprised to hear you were staying through the winter..."

"Yeah, needed some time alone...you know...to write...and I can't get more alone than this..."

"You definitely came to the right place. So, how are you, Alex?"

"Better than I deserve, my friend. How's the family?"

"Keeping me on my toes...always..." They both laughed, Alex recalling Andy's rambunctious brood.

 

"Hey, I've got a dog here...looks like a German shepherd...she's not wild...has a rope around her neck...has anyone reported their dog missing?"

" _Hmm_...not that I know of. You're so isolated there...you know. Wait! Maybe she belonged to those guys who were cooking last spring..."

" _Cooking?_ " Alex furrowed his brows.

"Yeah, they were running a meth lab out of a camper...not too far from your property...but they were gone before the Feds got there...left everything but the drugs behind. Horrible guys...involved in some really violent crimes. There were some dead dogs found at the site...they looked badly abused...maybe this was one of theirs, too..."

Alex grimaced, not wanting to believe that Boone had been treated so cruelly, but it made sense, maybe that explained the rope around her neck and her being so skittish around him.

"She won't let me get near her...I don't know...but she doesn't seem vicious..."

"You might want to stay away from her, Alex, just in case...I wouldn't be able to get you any medical help if she did bite you..."

"Yeah, will do." Alex nodded.

"Want me to get a message to your parents?"

Alex thought about it.

"Yeah...just tell them that I'm doing fine...and that I love them...thanks, Andy...and hey, please give my best to your family."

"I sure will. Hey, Al...do us a favor...write something _real_ pretty for us, alright?" Andy teased.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head.

"Will do, Andy...just for you, mate...talk to you in a week. Cabin Down Below, out."

"Watchtower 12, out." Alex could hear Andy's chuckling as he signed off.

So, that might be Boone's story and the reason for her mistrust of humans.

Alex smiled.

He was on a mission now, wanting to restore the dog's crumbled faith in humanity.

He was up for the challenge.

 

Alex wasn't really sure why he wanted to help an animal that was potentially dangerous.

He probably should've just taken Andy's advice and left her alone, but he'd always had a thing for animals, especially for dogs, finding it difficult not to pet every pup he came across. Dogs represented everything good in the world. They were loyal and trusting and begged for affection, happily returning it with no strings attached. Dogs were love - pure and unconditional.

And there was something about Boone's eyes, how they were constantly trained on him, not in a vicious way, but more like hopeful, that made Alex continue his quest to earn her trust.

Boone watched him closely for any danger or sudden movement and she would growl and run off if he moved too fast in her direction, so he quickly learned to keep a fair distance as he went about his daily chores, making sure to talk to her constantly, his low voice steady and calm, making her ears prick and head lift.

Something about Boone and her situation tugged deep within Alex, compelling him, making him want to be worthy of this animal's trust.

Boone needed him, and maybe, _just maybe_ , Alex needed her, too.

 

For many days, after every meal, Alex would set a plate of food next to a bowl of water on the deck, hoping to gain Boone's trust.

She would wait until he'd gone inside and would then make her way, slowly, cautiously to the plate, eyes on the window and Alex, before quickly snatching the food and running back to the safety of the bushes. Alex got smarter and started leaving stew and other soft foods that would force her to eat from the plate or bowl.

Boone gradually became more trusting and would sniff the air, sensing only peace within the human, no danger, and she would walk several steps towards the bowls, her head low, ready to run, as Alex was setting them out.

Every few days, Boone would take several steps closer, trusting Alex more and more.

Alex started leaving the cabin door open as he prepared meals, hoping the smell of food would bring her even closer.

 

Boone wanted the human.

Despite the abuse she had suffered from his kind, she was alone and yearned for the companionship her instincts knew he would provide.

A bond had already begun to form between the two as they shared eating in each other's presence. Of course, Alex was completely unaware that he had a guest dining on small prey mere yards from him, but to Boone, it was communal. And then, when the human started offering his food to her, the bond solidified.

It was now clear the relationship they were building together.

The human wanted to provide and the dog wanted to protect.

Boone's instincts longed for the loyalty and warmth the mutual partnership with humans had always brought her ancestors and she had a deep desire to please this human, to be his companion and to defend their territory, a desire she had never before experienced. 

This human wasn't like the others she had encountered in her short life, he smelled sweet and kind and pure and good. There was no danger emanating from him, no violence, no evil. There was a sadness about him, though, and a frustration with himself, and that troubled her most, she wanted him to be strong, like her.

She wanted this human.

She wanted him to be her new pack.

 

Several days later, Boone was standing fearlessly in the cabin's doorway, watching Alex as he turned from the stove with his bowl of stew.

Alex froze, the warm liquid sloshing in the bowl, dangerously close to the edge, wetting his thumb.

The dog's presence at the door startled him, and _Jesus_ , she was much larger up close, but he quickly recovered and played it cool, moving at a snail's pace.

"Well, now, Boone...are you going to join me today, love?" Alex spoke softly as he fixed her a bowl, trying his best to keep his excitement at bay.

Boone's ears pricked at the deep, familiar sound of his voice.

He approached her slowly and Boone took several steps back onto the deck, still cautious out of habit, allowing Alex to place the bowl several feet inside the threshold. Alex squatted to Boone's level and slowly held out his hand in her direction. Boone took a step forward and extended her nose towards his hand, sniffing it before pulling back.

 

Alex stood slowly, content with the progress they had just made and he took his bowl and sat at the table, studying the dog as she came forward several steps into the cabin and ate, still watching him closely.

He opened his journal and wrote a few lines about mystery, want, and the anticipation of the unknown.

When Boone was done, she looked at him and Alex thought he saw a slight wag of her tail before she retreated through the door and out to the cover of the bushes.

Alex sighed.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting after this huge step in their relationship, definitely not face licking and belly rubs, but he wanted her safely in the cabin and comfortable with him before the forecasted storm.

Alex stood and shut the door, noticing the breeze that was rapidly picking up and the chill that came with it.

He didn't know if they had much more time for trust-building.

 

"Bloody GPS!" Miles looked down at his mobile, watching the swirling icon as it failed miserably in its attempt to locate either him or a satellite.

This was just perfect.

To say that his life at the moment was absolutely crazy was an understatement, and now the weather and his fucking mobile were just adding further to the chaos.

" _Get the newest model, it's so much better_ , my ass!" Miles mimicked the salesperson from the day before, regretting his purchase already.

He'd been going nonstop the last several days, fueled by little sleep and little food, the adrenaline pumping wildly through his veins as he tried to get everything in order before heading out on this new, welcomed adventure.

 

Miles couldn't pack his bags fast enough when he was offered the executive chef position at The Chalet, an exclusive, five-star resort nestled deep in the mountains.

The decision had been an easy one and, honestly, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Miles had recently parted ways with the restaurant he'd worked at for just over two years. After countless disagreements and misunderstandings, Miles had finally had enough and was more than ready to get out of the city and leave all the baseless accusations behind.

The Chalet had offered an impressive salary and a coveted recommendation at winter's end, one that would allow him the credentials to work in pretty much any restaurant of his choosing. Their only stipulation was that Miles arrive as soon as possible, before the seasonal closing of the road that accessed the resort.

Despite the deluge of snow the area received every winter, the resort stayed open, catering to its affluent clientele who simply worked around the nuisance of closed roads by helicoptering in for luxury vacations, extravagant celebrations, and private skiing on slopes of pure, pristine powder.

Miles eagerly accepted the offer, ready to begin again.

 

Miles had wanted to make it to the resort before nightfall, but his train had been late, traffic had been at a veritable standstill, and now he was dealing with his useless mobile and the sudden change of weather, so his chances for a daylight arrival were looking slimmer and slimmer.

The pills he'd taken earlier were keeping his energy levels up, but he was second-guessing that decision as he drove through the unfamiliar territory where the trees were looming like green barriers as they lined the road, leaving no room to escape.

It was beautiful.

And Miles hated it.

Hated that something so naturally breathtaking also included dangerously winding roads through insanely tall mountains with steep drop-offs.

Deadly drop-offs.

Miles had to stay alert and keep his mind off the treacherous roads, so he'd taken the pills. There was no way, _no way_ , he was going to allow a few jitters and shakes to keep him from reaching his destination and, hopefully, a new start.

 

Miles cursed, he knew he shouldn't have taken that last turn, especially being there weren't any signs, but it had seemed like the right direction and he was getting desperate to get to the resort before dark.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his hands tense and white-knuckled, as he mulled over the situation - he had no clue where he was, his mobile was shit, and he was driving on a narrow mountain road that had gone from paved to dirt many miles back.

And did he mention that the drop-offs were getting steeper?

Because the drop-offs were getting steeper.

_Fuck!_

Miles' nerves ratcheted up as the road narrowed further and the dangerous slopes plunged deeper, their bottoms completely out of view.

The snow, which had been spitting small balls of ice, suddenly shifted gears and thick, heavy flakes were blotting out the sky while a bitter wind whistled against the car, jerking it sporadically.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

 

Miles eyed the duffle bag on the floor of the passenger seat.

The bag's contents included an impressive, self-prescribed drug supply, just little helpers to get him through the winter, to numb his pain and erase his thoughts, but only if needed.

He licked his lips, his eyes darting wildly from the road to the bag.

He really needed to focus.

Maybe he should take just _one_ more pill, it would help calm his nerves and keep him alert, and it would get him to the hotel in one piece.

It would also get his mind off the deadly fucking drop-offs.

 

Miles hadn't wanted to begin this fresh start high, he'd only brought the duffel as a precaution, a back-up, but the situation he was currently in was proving extraordinary.

After this, he'd have roughly six months to prove that he wasn't dependent on drugs, something he was constantly accused of.

Everyone always thought they knew Miles better than he did, but he knew the truth and he was going to show them all that he controlled his drug use, it didn't control him. When things got too loud and heavy, this was just what Miles did to make it all go away, to keep himself steady, and to help him forget. It was simply a ritual he had fallen into, a bad habit, certainly not an addiction.

The drugs helped him, but he didn't need them.

Miles looked at the duffel once more and then leaned his body towards the center of the car, his shaking hand finally unclamping itself from the steering wheel and reaching down to tug the bag closer so he would be able to unzip it.

He froze when he glanced back up at the road.

 

There, through the white, blinding snow and in the middle of the road, stood a huge buck, his fierce stance and magnificent rack daring Miles to continue his approach.

" _Shit!_ "

Miles instinctively slammed his foot on the brake and swerved to miss the mighty, formidable creature.

The sudden, erratic movement caused his tiny rental car to slide uncontrollably across the road and it teetered a moment before heading over the drop-off, _the deadly drop-off_ , and rolling down the steep mountainside, finally coming to rest at the foot of a cluster of aspen trees.

Miles's hand shot out to the passenger seat and he let out a cry when he found it empty.

_Unfuckinbelievable._

What were the chances of this happening?

He'd bet slim to none.

Miles tried to move, but his head and stomach were still rolling like the car and all he wanted was to sleep, that was all.

 

Snow and wind were whipping into the car and Miles dazedly looked around to find the source - the passenger door had come ajar from the impact and now sat partially open, inviting the elements in.

Miles had to shut it.

He had trouble concentrating, everything was moving in slow motion and nothing was responding the way it should be as he fumbled, trying repeatedly to undo his seatbelt. He finally got it unhooked and sighed, resting his head back on the seat, feeling drained after performing that one simple task.

He couldn't move, couldn't lean over and shut the door.

But right now, he really didn't care.

He just wanted to sleep.

He'd worry about the door, the snow, the wind, the cold, and everything else after he got some sleep.

Sleep was good.

 

Miles's eyes shot open and he sat up with a jolt.

In the momentary silence, he tried to remember what had happened. His entire body hurt, was throbbing with the pulse of his blood, and there was wind and snow accumulating around him, inside the car. His hand went to his pounding head and he pulled it back, bloody. He must've hit it on something.

What?

He wasn't sure.

But Miles _was_ sure that things were starting to spin violently and his vision was starting to blur and he was seeing things because there was suddenly a monster, a devil dog, barking at him from the open car door.

Miles shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for more focus and clarity when he opened them.

 

Nope.

The creature was still there, black as night, black as coal, barking away.

Was it the Grim Reaper coming to take him?

No.

Death wouldn't be barking frantically, shouldn't be barking frantically.

" _Ok, ok...Jesus!_ C'mon, stop with the noise already... _I get it_..." Miles grimaced through the pain as he leaned over, reaching toward the door.

His hands felt clumsy and slow and weirdly detached from his body, and it took several attempts before he managed to get a solid grip on the handle. The devil dog pushed its way past Miles and jumped to the back seat, barking until Miles managed to pull the door shut.

With the devil dog now quiet and the storm effectively sealed out, Miles rubbed his head again, it was still bleeding, still spinning, still blurring.

"Well, fuck."

 

Miles thought he was going to be sick, his stomach eagerly matching his head's movement and his eyes were giving up the fight to stay open.

Maybe if he shut them, the spinning would stop.

God, he hoped the resort was nearby.

Maybe he could walk the rest of the way once the storm passed.

Maybe someone would drive by and see his car.

That was down a steep embankment.

Hidden from view.

And rapidly becoming buried in snow.

Maybe.

Miles groaned. He just needed more sleep, just a little more, and then he would feel better, then he could figure out what needed to be done.

But first, more sleep.

Miles reclined his seat.

"Hey, Devil Dog, wake me up when help arrives...just like last time..." He murmured and then went quiet.

 

Boone looked at the human, knowing he was injured and acting strangely.

She huffed.

This species was so fragile and weak, this human was surely going to die if left alone. Any other injured animal would have backed itself against a wall and fought a predator off with its very last breath, but no, this human allowed her in and chose to sleep instead, leaving himself vulnerable.

Boone could rip his throat apart, if she wanted to.

Her primal instinct was crying for her to do it, to take him out, to eliminate a threat.

But another instinct was crying too, telling her to protect this helpless human who smelled only docile and peaceful, just like her packmate at the cabin.

 

Boone looked to the closed door and pawed at the window for a few minutes before she gave up, knowing she was trapped.

She'd have to wait the storm out with the human, hoping he would soon wake up and open the door, freeing her.

If the human didn't wake up, if the human died, she would die, too.

She had no way out.

They were in this together.

Boone whined and hesitated several times before finally crawling across Miles' lap and curling up as best as her large body would allow in the small space.

She had to keep him warm.


	3. Chapter 3

"C'mon, Boone...where are you?"

Alex was bundled up with his face buried deep in the warm hood of his heavy parka, his eyes squinted and peering out from its fur-lined cave, searching, as he walked around the outside of the cabin.

The temperature had dropped in a surprisingly short amount of time, mostly due to the biting winds that had picked up, and the sky had now darkened from the menacing clouds that were spitting the first signs of snow.

Alex had eaten his lunch slowly, hoping the pup would appear, and then he kept himself busy outside by chopping and moving wood to the side deck, piling them within easier reach so he wouldn't have to trudge through the deep snow that was expected to fall in the coming days.

He had really hoped to see Boone, for one last chance to persuade her to come inside before the storm.

Inside with him.

Where it was warm.

And safe.

 

Alex was worried.

Boone usually showed up well before lunch, but today she had disappeared right after breakfast and had not returned. Alex glanced at the untouched plate of stew on the deck and worried even more as big clumps of snow negotiated their way through the wind, rapidly accumulating everywhere they landed.

This was it, the first big snow of the season.

This was the point of no return for Alex, his fate was sealed, it was too late to change his mind about staying the winter, but there was still a small window of opportunity to get the dog inside. However, as each minute passed, Alex's hope faded and he knew time was quickly running out.

Alex sighed, picked up the plate of food, and moved it near the woodpile on the deck, on the side of the cabin that was mostly sheltered from the wind and snow.

A familiar feeling of self-doubt settled deep within his stomach as he tried to fight back the voices in his head, voices telling him that he had failed the dog, he should have had a better plan, maybe been more persistent, and more persuasive.

Whatever the voices were saying, there was one thing he was sure of.

He had messed up, again.

He was useless.

Couldn't even help a dog properly.

Alex's eyes scanned the bushes one last time before he reluctantly headed inside, hoping that wherever Boone was, she was safe and warm.

 

Miles came back to consciousness slowly, feeling a heavy, warm weight on him, a weight that held him down and kept him from moving.

Not that he was planning on moving anytime soon if the aching in his bones was any indication.

Everything was blurry and vague, and it took Miles a moment to get his bearings, to remember driving through the mountains, the gigantic buck, the swerving, the sliding, the rolling and rolling and rolling, the devil dog.

Miles recognized the coppery sensation of blood in his mouth and he groaned as he finally opened both eyes to look around, dizziness chasing their movement. On his lap and spilling over onto the seat sat the enormous, black creature, her neck twisting so she could stare up at him.

He coughed, feeling too much liquid in his throat, and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and looked at it, confirming that there was enough blood there to pool on his lips.

"Shit..." Miles shifted, his body sore and head pulsing, and the dog quickly moved off his lap and retreated to the passenger seat. His hand went to his head next, and he pulled it back to see flakes of dry and matted blood. Well, at least the bleeding there was slowing. 

He searched around for his mobile and finally found it on the floorboard, near his feet. He turned it on, squinting at the bright screen just long enough to see no bars, no service, and the GPS locator still swirling, the battery draining rapidly because of it. He reached over for his bottle of water that had wedged between the console and duffel bag when the car finally came to a rest. He drank some and then looked over at the dog, who was panting and peering out of the only partially clear window as if willing it to open by itself.

"Want some?"

Boone looked away from the window to Miles, her tongue lolling out.

"I guess that means yes..."

 

Boone rotated in the tiny seat so that she faced the human, watching skeptically as he cupped his hand and poured a small amount of water into it.

Her eyes were somewhat hopeful, but also guarded, as he held out his hand in her direction. She sniffed the offering before her tongue darted out, lapping quickly with her ears bent back, eyes riveted on the man and her body tense, poised to jump out of his reach, if necessary.

" _More?_ Ok, just a little more, poochie. We need to take it easy on the water... _ya know_...just in case..."

Boone lapped up another handful, not allowing a single drop to spill.

"That's a good pup..." Miles raised a hand to scratch the dog's ears and she jumped back, her body slamming against the passenger door, shaking the tiny car, a low growl rumbling in her throat and her sharp teeth bared in a warning snarl.

Boone still wasn't sure about this human, not like she was about the other one back at the cabin. She wasn't sure if he was going to grab her by the rope around her neck and cruelly tighten it like the others had, to gain control and choke her into submission.

Miles jumped at the dog's reaction and his heart pumped wildly, but he was too weak and sore to do anything more than rest his head back against the car seat.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, love... _I get it_...no petting..." Miles shivered as the strong winds whipped through the trees and rocked the tiny vehicle. It seemed as though the car had gotten even colder in just the last few minutes. Miles tried several times to zip up his coat, but his fingers were clumsy and slow, so he settled for jamming his hands deep into its pockets and wrapping the coat around himself that way.

Miles shut his eyes and felt a little better, it was easier to close them than fighting to keep them open, they were so heavy and he was so tired, despite his pulse racing and his heart pounding in his ears.

Miles took the easy way out and succumbed to the pressure, allowing himself to slide into the darkness.

Boone studied the human for a moment, tilting her head, and then moved back onto his lap.

 

For the remainder of the day, the snow fell thick and heavy, like rain, and the strong winds were making the large flakes rush past the window at an almost unnaturally horizontal angle.

Boone never showed up and Alex didn't sleep well that night, a small part due to the howling winds and creaking cabin, a larger part because he was listening for anything, a whimper, a bark, a howl, a scratch at the door, anything letting him know Boone was back and wanted in.

No luck.

The world was eerily quiet when Alex woke, the snow was still falling but the winds were gone.

He quickly added wood and rekindled the fire and then went to the window. There was about a foot's worth of snow in the open areas, less than he had expected, the majority of it drifted into deeper piles by the wind, but it was still coming down, it wasn't over yet.

There was still no sign of Boone.

Alex put on his boots, coat, hat, and gloves, bundling up against the cold before walking out on the deck, quickly noticing the untouched plate of food.

Alex whistled.

Nothing.

He circled the deck several times around the cabin, searching for signs, for footprints in the newly-fallen snow.

Nothing.

He quickly used a push broom to sweep off the snow that had blown onto the deck before the cold forced him back inside, but not before one more look over his shoulder.

"Where'd you go, girl?"

Alex was worried, and tried to push away the image of the dog out there somewhere, huddled up alone and cold, hungry, and suffering.

Because of him.

 

Miles woke up to a large tongue working his cheek and ear, the thought pulling a small smile from him.

 _Oh yeah, keep going, baby._..

But, wait, that was a pretty large tongue.

Freakishly large.

Miles came to with a jolt, letting out a strangled noise as his eyes shot open and he sat up quickly, his hands flying to protect himself from further licking. His brain was spinning, fighting through another rush of disorientation, before everything came pounding back and he was able to remember where he was, and what had happened.

"Okay, okay, poochie, I'm awake..." His words lacked conviction.

Miles didn't want to be awake, he just wanted to sleep, it felt so nice to sleep, he didn't feel cold when he was asleep, and he knew he'd feel so much better after more rest.

Miles closed his eyes, everything was easier when he closed his eyes.

 

Boone watched the human pass out again and she whined as her paw poked his chest to get a reaction.

She knew he needed help.

He was sleeping too much and needed more than the warmth she could provide, he also needed to eat and drink, but most importantly, he needed to stay awake.

Boone started licking his face again, taking in the taste of sweat and blood, trying her best to rouse the human and his survival instinct, but it was no use, he was out. She started barking in his face and moving about the car from front seat to back, pawing gently at him, but he didn't stir.

She looked out the one window not covered in snow and whined, before looking back at the human, knowing there was only one thing she could do for him.

She then returned to his lap.

 

The day dragged on and Alex was in a foul mood by evening, cursing the bloody winds that had picked up again, the bloody bone-chilling cold, and the bloody dog that was too bloody stupid to come inside.

He couldn't remember how many times he had walked the property, searching the snow in hopes of a sign of Boone.

But, nothing.

Not a damn, bloody thing.

She was just a stupid, bloody dog.

Alex wasn't sure why he was so worked up over a stupid, bloody dog.

Isn't this why he had escaped to the this bloody cabin? To avoid this kind of drama, expected from humans, but now surprisingly delivered by a fuckin' stray dog? A dog who didn't want anything to do with him, except eat his bloody food. She was just like everyone in his life, the ones he ran from, the users who didn't want him, only wanted what he had to offer until he had nothing else to give, or something better came along, and then they'd be on their merry fuckin' way.

He really shouldn't have been so fuckin' surprised, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time an outsider did something nice for him, like simply being his friend, without an ulterior fuckin' motive, and he berated himself for thinking this time would be any different because it were a bloody dog.

A stupid, bloody dog.

Alex threw another log on the fire, stoked it angrily, and scribbled down several scathing verses in his journal about not needing anything from anyone, anymore.

He slammed his notebook shut, threw it on the tufted ottoman, and sat back on the couch.

This was the second night she would be out there, cold and alone.

Alex was surprised when he felt his eyes stinging as they started to tear up, but he was even more surprised when hot tears pooled up enough to splash down his face.

Stupid, bloody dog.

 

The world came back to Miles only in sounds and sensations. Despite his eyes being open, they swam in a heavy sea of blackness. He could hear sporadic whistling, high-pitched and angry, that would rock him, and when that quieted, he could hear heavy panting and whining.

A sudden, sharp pain in his wrist sent him lurching forward, trying to escape the unseen aggressor. His free hand moved around clumsily, his fingers blindly searching for his mobile. He finally found it and turned it on to find the black beast holding his wrist in its jaws, glowing eyes on him, a growl rumbling deep in its chest. Miles could feel its vibration where long, sharp teeth met tender skin.

He knew it, the animal was a fucking devil dog!

He wrenched his arm away from the dog's mouth, cursing it and the throbbing pain that was thundering through his body as he cradled his hand to his chest.

" _What the fuck?_ Is this how it ends? You're going to eat me now?" Miles slurred, angry, but still too sleepy to care if the monster was, in fact, going to eat him.

He felt dizzy and drugged, and the mobile's dim light wasn't helping to make anything clearer.

 

Miles sputtered out a wet cough, not needing to see to know that there was still blood pooling in his mouth.

The devil dog started barking and hopping around in the passenger seat, scratching madly at the door handle.

"Hey, now, stop that...the rental car company is going to charge me if you leave marks..." Miles tried to yell, but felt a smile painfully working its way to the surface.

 _Yeah_ , those scratches would be the first thing they'd notice after the car had rolled down a deadly drop-off.

 _Yeah_ , they'd definitely charge for those little scratches.

The dog continued its frantic pawing and barking until Miles realized that the beast was simply getting his attention the only way it knew how.

His anger softened.

It wanted out.

 

"No, no poochie...it's too dark...have to stay here...too fucking cold out there..."

Miles yelped when the dog growled and tried to bite his thigh through his jeans.

"What the fuck! _Are you serious?_ Okay, then, suit yourself...don't come back, licking on me for forgiveness when you freeze your fucking tail off!"

Miles groaned as he reached over and struggled to open the door against the built-up snow. He finally cracked it far enough for the dog to nose it open wider and squeeze her large body through. And then she disappeared, swallowed by the icy darkness.

"Good luck, poochie..." Miles moaned as he tried to shut the door against the cold that was rushing in.

Some heavy clumps of snow had fallen into the doorjamb, making it impossible to shut completely, especially with Miles void of any strength. His whole body hurt, his head was pounding, he was cold, and he was tired, so very, very tired.

He looked at his phone, watching as the battery finally died, plunging him back into blackness.

Miles weakly felt around for the water, but passed out again before he could find it, letting the darkness drag him under its heavy weight.

 

Wild barking tore through the air, waking Alex.

"Boone!"

He was off the couch and at the door in an instant, throwing it open in time to catch the dog in his arms.

"My sweet girl...I was so worried...where've you been?" Alex was on his knees, hugging her, scratching her ears, and giggling as she licked his face and butted her head roughly into his body.

Man and beast realized at the same moment that they were actually touching affectionately for the first time and it caused Alex to freeze in shock and Boone to retreat to a corner, eyeing him suspiciously out of habit. Alex took a deep breath and slowly stood and closed the door, not wanting to alarm her, but not wanting to let her have a chance to escape.

It was okay if she stayed far away from him, at least she was here, inside the cabin and safe with him, he didn't have to worry about her anymore.

 

"It's okay, girl...I'm not gonna hurt you...let's get you some chow..." Alex moved slowly to the kitchen while Boone paced with nervous energy. He quickly prepared some food for her, plating up more than usual.

He set it on the floor, adding another bowl of water beside it, and moved away to the fire, stoking it to a full burn before sitting on the couch.

Boone had waited in the corner, watching his every move.

The room stayed silent for a moment, with only the crackling of the fire, and then Alex heard Boone eating and drinking greedily, she was hungry and thirsty from the sounds of it.

"I missed you...so glad you're back..." He whispered, staring at the fire, his body sagging with relief.

 

Boone finished her meal and cautiously approached Alex.

She had already decided that he was no longer a threat and she had nothing to fear from this human, the one who had just provided her with food and water, and a warm place by the fire.

She continued approaching, stopping only when she was close enough to sit on her haunches and study him before tentatively resting her head on his thigh. She wanted the contact and the reassurance that she had someone on her side, and she craved the familial contact she had missed from her mother and brother.

Alex looked down at her, and their eyes met.

He smiled and lifted his hand slowly, placing it between her ears, giving her head a gentle rub.

Boone shifted closer, her head heavy on his thigh, her tail twitching, wanting to wag.

 

Alex's fingers moved to the worn rope that hung from Boone's neck, and the dog tensed up and her ears flattened, pulling her head back slightly to eye Alex suspiciously.

"It's okay...I'm gonna take it off...you don't need that here... _okay, girl?_ " His familiar, deep voice soothed and calmed her.

Boone eyed him for a moment, her nose reading his intent, before she moved herself closer to Alex, his hand carefully pulling the rope over her pointed ears and off her neck. They looked at the piece of rope a moment and Boone sniffed it. It no longer smelled of her pack nor the humans who had cruelly placed it there, it was now only a sad reminder of her past and she whined when Alex tossed it into the fire.

And with that one simple act, Alex and Boone became a team.

They both watched the flames claim the weathered restraint before Boone whined and rested her head again on Alex's thigh, rubbing against it. His hand explored her head and made its way slowly to the scruff of her massive neck where the rope had been, giving her a deep scratch all along that area.

"Missed you so much, girl..." Alex cooed as he massaged.

Boone relaxed into the touch.

She could count on this human now.

He had fed her.

He had provided warmth.

He had freed her.

She trusted him.

He was pack.

 

Alex slept better the rest of that night, knowing Boone was safe inside.

With him.

He was a little worried, though, that she chose to sleep against the cabin door instead of in front of the fire, where she would be warmer, but they had made huge strides that day, so he wouldn't allow himself to be disappointed that the pup apparently wanted to leave as soon as day came.

Alex woke early the next morning, before the crack of dawn, to Boone's whimpering and licking his hand as it hung out over the bed. Alex looked at the clock, noting it had only been a couple of hours since she had arrived at the cabin.

"Hey, girl. Hungry?" Alex rose and pulled on a turtleneck before stirring the embers and starting a fire that set the room aglow in soft yellows and oranges. He looked over his shoulder at Boone, who stood at the door.

He sighed.

Okay, maybe she just needed to go do her business and would come right back.

Alex hesitated opening the door, afraid she would disappear again. Boone looked up at him, shifting back and forth on her front paws, excited to leave, and woofed encouragingly.

"Okay...it's cold out there...you come right back for a warm breakfast, _okay?_ "

Boone woofed again, eagerly.

Alex opened the door and she was off into the pre-dawn darkness and light snow, running hard, with a purpose.

"She'll come back..." Alex muttered as he shut the door and moved to make breakfast, wanting desperately to believe his own words.

 

Despite the haze he was in, Miles knew the situation was bad.

The car door could no longer shut completely and the air was bitterly cold, the kind that seeps through clothing and absorbs into the skin before sinking deep into the bones and cruelly settling there, ready to do damage.

Miles was aching, not only from the accident, but also from the way his body was tensed up and shaking as it struggled to maintain its temperature from the frigid onslaught.

He couldn't stop shaking, no matter the effort he put into it. If he tried to control the spastic movement in his hands, the tremors would find another area - his arms, his legs, his head - to release even more violently, shaking his body even more.

Miles eventually gave up the struggle.

 

Three hours and eighteen minutes.

That's how long Boone had been gone, but it wasn't like Alex was counting or anything.

He sat at the table, looking at the cold plate of eggs on the floor.

At least the snow had stopped and the sun was shining, making it a bit warmer outside. He had already swept off the deck and moved some firewood to keep busy.

Alex opened his notebook and jotted down a few thoughts about love and loss, the inevitability of it all, the hunger of the pine, separation, and how hope was sometimes one's only comfort.

Three hours and fifty minutes.

 

At some point, Devil Dog had returned, barking wildly, and Miles mustered up all the strength he had to reach over and push on the car door, using the weight of his whole body to shove it open enough for her to squeeze in. That mere exertion wore him out and he rested his head back on the seat and shut his eyes.

"Knew you'd come back, poochie...too cold out there for ya? I told you so..."

Boone dropped a dead rabbit on the passenger seat in response and woofed gently at Miles.

Miles turned his heavy head, fought to pry one eye open, and looked at the offering before he lay his head back and giggled weakly between his chattering teeth.

In another place and time, he would've made a killer batch of hasenpfeffer with that fresh rabbit.

If he had some wine.

And some garlic.

And a warm kitchen.

Fuck the rabbit.

A warm kitchen and some wine sounded heavenly right now.

 _Heavenly_.

Miles giggled again, followed by violent coughing.

 

Boone didn't get the reaction she was hoping for. She had expected the human to eat, to gain strength so she could lead him out of there.

She whined at the door that could no longer shut, and clumsily maneuvered herself to sit on the human's lap, leaning against his chest, trying to cover as much of his body as possible. The human flailed and protested, but weakly, and she felt his body shake and spasm beneath hers until he fell into a heavy sleep, her weight and warmth beginning to dispel some of the cold.

Boone knew she could no longer help the human and that he was going to die, soon.

She reluctantly left her spot and moved about the tiny car, sniffing and searching until she finally found something. She held it between her jaws as she looked back at him, and then at the open door.

She had to leave even though she knew the human needed her warmth. The human wasn't going to wake up again, especially if he had been too weak to eat her freshly-killed offering.

She had to make a decision.

She eyed the human again and then the door.

She tightened her bite on the object in her mouth and then squeezed her head through the door, opening it wider, and she was off again.

 

Boone finally returned to the cabin, scratching frantically at the door.

Alex jumped to his feet and opened it, kneeling down and greeting her with hugs and scratches, and this time she didn't pull away, but dropped a mobile phone at his feet instead.

Alex stared at the mobile and then at Boone.

"What's this, Boone?"

Alex reached down to turn it on, but it was dead. Maybe it belonged to a cross country skier from the end of last season, or a hiker during the summer. There was no way of knowing.

Alex stood and looked over the phone again, flipping it in his hand and trying to turn it on again, before setting it on the dining table and heading to the couch. Boone followed, whining, glancing back at the discarded phone, she needed to get her human to understand that one of his own needed more help than she could give.

Alex grabbed Boone's head with both hands and cooed at her.

"Such a good pup..."

Boone wagged her tail, keening at the praise in his voice.

 

Alex patted her head, scratching behind her ears, but Boone shrugged him off and walked over to the table, lifting her paws against it, sniffing and nosing the phone. She had to get him to understand.

"Come here, girl..."

Boone returned to Alex, placing her head on his thigh, whining.

Alex rubbed her neck, thinking about the phone and how distracted Boone seemed to be with it.

And then it hit him.

He stood up quickly and picked up the mobile.

Granted, Alex would be the first to admit he didn't know a lot about technology, but he knew this was the most recent model, it had just been released a week or two before he had headed to the cabin.

He hadn't even wanted one, there was no need where he was going, but Matt had insisted, so Nick picked out the newest version, with all the bells and whistles, and Jamie disappeared, returning soon after with a grin and a phone cover that had an owl on it.

 

"Boone, where'd you get this?" Alex moved to the mud bench and grabbed his boots, pulling them on quickly before finding the keys to the snowmobile and zipping up his parka.

Boone was barking excitedly at the door, her front paws prancing, ready to go, happy her human finally understood.

Alex put on gloves as he headed to the outbuilding where he straddled the machine and adjusted the choke before pulling the start cord several times until the engine sluggishly turned over and the snowmobile finally started.

He slowly backed it out of the building and into the clearing as it idled before wiping his hair back and pulling his ski goggles down over his face.

"Show me, girl..." He revved the engine and the snowmobile jerked, straining to push forward, ready to go.

At that, Boone tore off down the snow-covered path with Alex following close behind.

 

Miles was hallucinating.

Had to be.

 _Note to self - thank Joshua for that latest shipment of pills. Good shit_.

Miles could feel it, his entire body was shutting down. He was still shaking uncontrollably, but now he felt happy and warm on the inside, like he was full of some lovely, warm liquid, he didn't know, didn't care, it felt nice, and calming.

Miles wanted to slip back into that vague, easy world he had been drifting to, where everything would go away, but he knew something was happening, something very important was going on around him. He struggled with all the energy he had left and when he finally succeeded in opening his eyes, he instantly knew it was a mistake.

His head swam in circles, refusing to stop, and his vision vacillated between hallucinating and blurring completely out of focus.

 

Devil Dog had returned with an Angel of Mercy, an odd pairing, if he thought about it, a devil and an angel, and they were now pulling him out of his car and trying to awkwardly load his pliant and unhelpful body onto their fancy, little Rocket Ship that would undoubtably take him to The Great Beyond.

It all felt very clumsy, unplanned, and ill-prepared to Miles, but then he chuckled, needs must when the devil is driving, or in this case, an angel.

But still, shouldn't his Day of Reckoning feel nicer, and be just a _bit_ more grand? A little larger than life? Maybe some pomp and circumstance? Miles wasn't asking for much, but shouldn't there _at least_ be a fanfare of trumpets playing and a harem of angels lifting him gently, maybe rubbing some nice smelling oils on him?

Did angels even live in harems?

Miles giggled and coughed.

_Oh shit!_

He'd have to google that once he got to The Great Beyond.

He hoped they had decent internet there. Life, or death in this case, would really suck if they had no internet. Or a shitty connection. Crappy wifi for all eternity. Now that would be Hell.

Miles giggled again.

 _Shit!_ He really needed to take his death more seriously.

 

Maybe this rough send-off was punishment, long overdue, even he would agree with that, maybe this process needed to be even clumsier and definitely more painful.

He deserved it, after all.

Regardless, it certainly needed more flourish, more finality.

Maybe even some winged monkeys.

It was The End, after all.

And incidentally, everyone, _every-fucking-one_ , had promised him that there was no pain when a person died, that things may look painful, but the body would go into shock and the brain would shut off to disassociate itself from the trauma, not allowing a person to feel the horror of death. Everyone had assured him of that, and guess what?

They were fucking wrong.

It fucking hurt.

_Fucking liars._

He would definitely have to talk to someone about that when he reached his Eternal Resting Place, but first things first. Miles was more interested in his Final Destination at the moment, and whether he would be arriving by Stairway or Highway.

 

"Am I dying?" Miles choked out, his throat dry and burning, wincing as he was moved. He looked up through one opened eye at the Angel, whom The Gods had graced with hair of the finest silk that fell into eyes as dark as the deepest ocean that shone like the constellations, and a jawbone chiseled from the strongest granite.

The Angel furrowed his brows and spoke to him in a deep voice of creamy, dark chocolate.

"No...not if I can help it..."

Miles smiled, nodded, shut his eyes, and relaxed.

 _Fuck!_ He'd really like to taste that voice, just stick his tongue down that throat and lick the fuck out of it, savor it at its source, in its purest form. It was probably Wonka worthy.

Miles giggled again.

 _Shit!_ He was definitely going to be reprimanded for having impure thoughts at this very important time in his life, or death.

 

Despite everything, though, Miles had to admit that The Powers That Be had done a great job of appointing his guardian angel, or his cruise director, or whatever they were called, wherever he was going.

He was just Miles' type - so pretty with such a worried look of concern imbedded in those inviting eyes, and apparently he was also very strong and all tightly wrapped up in one fit, little package.

 _Ahh_ , _yes_ , maybe Miles could overlook everything else if it meant he could spend more time with his sweet, little angel and get a good taste of that voice.


	4. Chapter 4

_Please don't die...please don't die...please don't die..._

The words chased each other through Alex's head, around and around, begging, borderline screaming, from the moment Boone had stopped in her tracks and started barking wildly, and the moment Alex realized that he was looking at a car and not just a large mound of snow.

And that there was a body inside.

Alex froze in fear, but then a surge of some dormant instinct took over and he just reacted, didn't give any thought to what he was doing when he rushed forward, pried the door open, and crawled in towards the body, trying not to think about the blood that seemed to be everywhere.

Alex's heart pounded heavily in his ears, dulling Boone's barking into a distant, faraway muffle as he quickly pulled off a glove with his teeth and his bare, warm hand went to the man's cold neck, searching, hoping for a pulse. He found a faint one and that spurred him to start pulling the limp body from the car, his main focus now getting back to the cabin and out of the threatening temperature.

_Please don't die...please don't die...please don't die._..

The man stirred and began weakly struggling, giggling, and muttering nonsensical words and questions while Alex dragged him towards the snowmobile. Alex distractedly responded, trying to concentrate on the increasingly difficult task at hand until the man seemed satisfied with his answers and finally quit moving, his body becoming pliant again as he faded away, making him much easier to move.

 

The way back took far longer than the way there. The man swayed heavily with each turn of the trail, limp and caged within Alex's arms as Alex sat behind him, awkwardly steering his way over the deep, difficult snow while Boone charged ahead, leading the way.

_Please don't die...please don't die...please don't die..._

Once at the cabin, Alex continued feeding off instinct and quickly stripped the man of his wet clothing and carefully settled him on the bed before burying him beneath every available blanket within his reach. He tried getting some water into the man's mouth, enough to at least wet his tongue and rinse the blood that had pooled there and spilled out over his chin.

He then fetched the first aid kit and gently cleaned the man's sticky, gooey wounds and searched for injuries, pressing tenderly along his arms, legs, and abdomen for any signs of internal problems. Some ribs were swollen and badly bruised, most likely broken, but Alex considered that good news if it were the worst of his injuries.

_Please don't die...please don't die...please don't die..._

Alex's heart was still beating madly and the fear that the man might still succumb to some unknown and unseen trauma consumed his thoughts and worried his soul. He rechecked the blankets covering him and quickly added another wool throw to the pile before contacting the ranger's station and speaking with Andy, who confirmed that because of the recent snow and the cabin's remote location, they weren't able to send any help, but he reassured Alex that he had done everything correctly and now just needed to give the man's body some time to heal on its own.

Alex placed the radio in its charger and sank to his knees, shaking with relief. Boone was instantly in front of him, pushing her strong head against his chest to comfort her human. His trembling arms closed around her massive neck, hugging her tight.

Alex sat back slowly, one hand on the pup, the other on his chest as he concentrated on taking deep breaths, trying to calm the chaos running through his system.

_Okay...okay...okay..._

He had done everything he possibly could.

Now it was time to wait.

 

Miles' eyes opened slowly and stopped barely halfway before fixating on a faraway, moving light. Things gradually sharpened into focus, revealing a fire with flames licking their way up the wood, climbing to a hot peak.

He couldn't move, felt like he was lying deep on an ocean floor, the weight of the water making it impossible, so he lay there, watching the fire, hearing it pop and hiss while the flames flickered in and out, sharp then blurry. He struggled to keep his eyes open as they explored only what was within their scope of movement - some leather furniture, blankets, wood, and the bright, dancing fire.

He felt himself fading, his own body an anchor pulling him back under, but he wasn't ready, not yet, didn't want to return to the nothingness, the unknown. His eyes flooded as he fought their leaden weight. One tear escaped, trailing down the side of his face, and he blinked his eyes shut to help them focus, but found he couldn't muster the strength to open them again.

Miles gave in and surrendered to the suffocating heaviness, sinking back into the deep, letting the hungry darkness swallow and smother him whole.

 

The day stretched on and the man slept so soundly that Alex found himself frantically searching his neck and wrist several times for a pulse. Despite the reassuring signs of life, Alex continued to fret over him, spending most of his time checking for fever, lifting bandages to monitor bleeding, and feeding logs onto the fire to keep the cabin extra warm.

During the lulls, Alex kept busy by bringing several stacks of wood inside and making a small meal for Boone. Alex wasn't hungry, his own body was still feeling the effects of the adrenaline that had coursed through his system earlier and now remained because of the crippling fear that someone's life was in his very incapable hands.

Late in the afternoon, Alex filled the bathtub with water and hand washed the man's clothing, removing the bloodstains completely before hanging them to dry on a quilt rack in front of the fire. He also managed to write in his journal, scribbling phrases about luck and chance, fear and pressure, worry and uncertainty, life's delicate balance, and nature's unbreakable force.

And when there was nothing left to do, Alex sat close to the man with Boone by his side - waiting, worrying, and watching.

 

Evening approached and Alex managed to eat a light meal with Boone before going outside and piling wood while the pup disappeared off into the dense trees, running wildly through her territory with the shadows of her former pack.

When the sky darkened and the temperature dropped to an unbearable degree, they came inside and Boone curled up by the fire, watching as Alex added more logs to the flames. He checked on the man once more and changed some bandages and smoothed the blankets covering him before finally settling in on the couch. His plan was to read a bit, but exhaustion quickly set in and he dropped off to sleep.

During the night, the man's temperature rose sharply and his sleeping grew fitful, marred with incoherent ramblings as he struggled to breathe, his body convulsing with coughing fits so powerful that he eventually passed out from the effort or the pain, probably both.

Alex stayed by his side during it all, murmuring soft words of comfort, cleaning off new blood from old wounds, applying new bandages, and holding wet compresses to his forehead while the man thrashed weakly around, visibly agitated and upset.

Early the next morning, before the sun had lightened the dark sky, the man's fever broke and Alex pressed cool towels to his forehead and chest, gently dabbing away the sweat. The man then fell into a deep, motionless sleep and Alex followed soon after, his body a dead weight collapsing on the couch.

Boone kept watch.

 

Miles slowly surfaced again, his body heavy and sore, his throat raw and aching for water, and his eyes focusing on the dark wood beams above him.

Everything hurt, every breath he took was a searing, sharp stab, and pain seemed to radiate from everywhere, even his veins were pulsing and pounding. His legs shifted stiffly against soft sheets and he turned his head to the fire, wincing at the strong throbbing that followed the movement.

He took in what he could see. He faintly remembered the leather furniture, the blankets, the wood, and the fire, but this time someone was there.

Miles could barely make the person out because he was sitting slightly angled toward the flames, his dark hair partially hiding his face while he stared at a book that sat on the crook of one leg, its ankle resting on the opposite knee. His free hand dangled over the armrest, his fingers gently working into the fur of a beast - a large, black beast with tall, pointy ears that was sitting on its haunches, staring directly at Miles.

It was _the_ dog.

_Devil Dog._

Miles moaned and shut his eyes, giving in again, falling willingly into the easy darkness that had come for him, allowing it to pull him back under, away from awareness, away from pain.

 

The man continued sleeping heavily and Alex continued methodically cleaning his wounds and trying to give him nourishment during his rare, semi-lucid moments.

Alex quickly adapted to the unexpected situation, easily mixing in the new tasks of tending to his unconscious guest with his established routine of chopping and transferring wood, shoveling newly-fallen snow, making meals, and reading and writing.

Despite the signs that the man was stable and just needed more time to heal, Alex still felt an enormous weight of pressure and responsibly for his recovery. He rarely slept more than a couple of hours at a time and would sneak in naps here and there to make up for the constant, around-the-clock care he was providing.

When Alex _did_ manage to sleep, it was extremely light, unhealthily so, his subconscious always listening for sounds of distress.

Sounds that he was needed.

Sensing Alex's growing fatigue and worry, Boone helped the only way she could. Her acute sense of hearing detected when the man was about to wake well before Alex and his weak, human ears could register anything. She would lift her head but remain still and quiet, letting Alex sleep on while she flicked her ears straight ahead and watched the man on the bed, cocking her head and listening for his heartbeat and breathing to change, signaling his surfacing back into consciousness.

Only then would she approach and nudge Alex, who was usually passed out on the couch or chair, sometimes at the table, and he would jolt awake and jump up, petting her head briefly and thanking her before quickly seeing to the man's needs. 

Alex quickly saw the pattern of Boone alerting him right as the man was beginning to stir, so he allowed himself to sleep a little deeper, trusting she would wake him.

 

Early one morning, Alex decided to head back to the car to retrieve the man's belongings before another storm moved in and buried it completely.

The man had been in and out of consciousness for days now, and just after dawn seemed to be when he slept the deepest, so Alex felt there was no reason he would be needed in the short time before they returned.

Boone barked and playfully nipped at Alex's legs as she raced alongside the snowmobile through the deep snow, happy that Alex was finally emerging from the cabin and into her woods, enjoying the clear day and warm sun with her packmate.

Without the challenge of balancing a lifeless body on the snowmobile, it was a relatively quick trip. There also wasn't a lot to haul, just a duffle bag and a small suitcase.

Alex was both confused and curious.

Wherever this guy had been headed, he was certainly traveling light.

 

Miles jerked the steering wheel and the car plunged off the steep slope.

His body started moving, reaching frantically to brace some phantom passenger as he tried to sit up, needing to get out of the car, needing to get help before it was too late.

But he knew it was too late.

It was always too late.

" _Nooo!_ "

Miles' cry startled Alex, who had been dozing on the couch. He leapt up and was by Miles' side instantly, where Boone already stood, whining.

" _Shhh_...it's okay...it was just a nightmare...you're okay...just lie back..." Alex soothed as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside Miles, gently pushing him back into the pillows.

" _What...where_... _what happened?_ " Miles managed to gasp, awake for real now, holding his breath against the pain and wincing as he looked around, trying to put the world back in order and gain some clarity while fighting the heavy weight that was trying to pull him back under.

"You had an accident...your car went off the road, but you're safe now...you're going to be okay..." Alex rested his hand on the back of Boone's neck as he spoke.

Alex glossed over the details. It was all too much, especially how the car had been nearly covered in snow and if Boone hadn't led Alex to it, it would've remained hidden until the snow melted in the spring, with the man dead inside. Alex shuddered, not wanting to think about such a horrible fate. It was too much to reveal, especially when Alex wanted the man in his bed to remain calm.

Miles brought a heavy, aching arm up and rubbed his forehead slowly, the memories coming back in bits and pieces. He finally rested his eyes on Boone.

"Devil Dog there...tried to eat me..." He mumbled groggily and shut his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. 

" _What?_ Oh...doubt that, mate...Boone is the one that led me to you..." Alex smiled at the pup, scratching behind her ears while Boone looked up at him, her tongue lolling, tail wagging. 

 

Alex reached for a glass of water on the night table. "Here, you need to drink...you've been in and out for a couple of days now...I got you to eat a little, but it wasn't much...you kept refusing...said your mouth hurt..."

With much effort, Miles lifted himself up on one elbow, wincing as his cuts and bruises pulled tight and sharp pains ran along his ribs. He moved his tongue slowly, it felt too large and dry for his mouth and there was a swollen throbbing on one side.

" _Shit!_ It's my tongue...must've bitten it..." He took the glass in his shaking hand, taking small sips before resting it on the blankets covering his belly.

Alex nodded and stood, moving to the kitchen while talking. "That makes sense...you must've sliced into it pretty deep...there was a lot of blood...I was afraid it was something internal...I'm going to heat up some broth for you...hope you can manage some of it...you really need to get your strength back...the quicker, the better... _uh_...I'm Alex, by the way..." Alex glanced shyly at Miles and smiled softly before turning to the stove.

"I'm Miles... _that_...that sounds good...thank you..." Miles struggled with his shaky, unsteady hand to set the glass down smoothly on the nightstand and then eyed Boone, who was eyeing him back.

 

There was a momentary, silent stand-off between the two until Miles' hand finally inched its way slowly towards Boone, wanting to touch her but dimly remembering her wild reaction the last time he had tried, complete with vicious snarling and bared teeth.

The pup sensed the human's hesitance and fear and nosed her head between the mattress and his hand, moving closer, allowing Miles' fingers to reach out and tentatively stroke her head.

"Thanks, poochie...for saving me..." He whispered, patting her weakly on the forehead before finally letting his tired, aching hand rest there.

"Well, you gave me quite a scare, Miles..." Alex was bustling about the kitchen, rambling, pleased that the man was finally awake. "I've never really dealt with serious injuries before, but I think they looked worse than they were...I think your ribs are the biggest problem...and those just need rest..." He bowled the broth and grabbed a spoon. "This should be perfect, not too hot..."

Alex turned to find Miles asleep again with Boone on the bed, tightly curled against his side, watching him approach, her tail lightly thumping.

Her pack was growing.

 

The next time Miles awoke, he was more alert but still unable to move much without feeling sharp pain course through his body. He tried lifting his head, but barely had the strength to do so before letting it fall back to the pillow, and even that hurt.

" _Oh shit!_ I'm completely broken... _all over_...everything fucking hurts..." He let out a feeble laugh, which caused him to clutch his ribs and moan even more.

Alex quickly appeared by his side with several paracetamol and a glass of water to ease his agony.

After that, Miles was able to drink the half cup of broth that Alex had warmed before he weakly lifted the blanket covers, noting that he had been stripped down to only his boxer briefs.

Alex quickly understood Miles' questioning look and immediately felt the need to explain, a flush of pink heat rising up his neck to his cheeks, and not because of the warm air in the room.

"Your... _uh_...clothes...were all wet...and I... _uh_...had to get you warm...as quickly as possible..." Alex stuttered his explanation, worried that Miles imagined Alex had nothing better to do in those critical moments of dragging his limp and lifeless form into the cabin with Boone barking wildly by his side to ogle Miles' body while he was in a delicate balance between life and death, his teeth chattering, lips blueing, mumbling incoherently about deer, the devil, and oiled-up angels around strings of _it was my fault...I'm so sorry...all my fault._

Truth be told, Alex definitely had no time to even notice Miles' extremely lean, hard physique during those first chaotic hours.

None at all. 

However, Alex wasn't blind and in the days following, when it appeared that Miles was going to recover, he couldn't help but notice Miles' extremely lean, hard physique as he continued cleaning Miles' wounds and checking on their healing. And even if he _were_ blind, his fingers would have easily detected Miles' lean and hard muscular firmness everywhere they touched.

So, yeah, Alex _may_ have noticed, but he certainly didn't ogle.

Miles eyed his own near nakedness again with a skeptical eyebrow raised, before slowly letting the blankets fall, a spark of mischievousness lighting his weary eyes. " _Oh my God, Alex!_ Don't tell me you fell for the _we-must-share-body-heat-in-order-to-survive_ cliché and warmed me up by pressing your naked body up against mine..." He grinned a weak, wolfish grin.

Alex gazed at Miles' mouth and wondered what that grin would look like when Miles had regained his full strength, probably more powerful, more lascivious, more lethal.

 

Miles' comment and its implication finally sank in and Alex dragged his eyes from Miles' mouth and blinked rapidly, shaking his head emphatically, brows furrowing deeply, skin flushing darker.

"Wait... _what?_ You think I... _uh_...no! _NO!_ I just took your clothes off so you wouldn't get my bed wet and would warm up faster...I didn't lie down next to you...and we certainly didn't share body heat... _clothed or naked!_ "

" _Alex_ , I was just kidding..."

"The cabin is plenty warm... _can't you tell?_ I keep the fire going nonstop..." Alex rambled on, waving his arms back and forth, defending his actions.

Miles grinned softly, watching the red rapidly creeping up from Alex's neck to his cheeks.

"I was kidding, Alex..."

"You can plainly feel how warm it is in here...there was no need for naked body warmth... _no need at all._..you probably don't even need _all_ these blankets..." Alex floundered, one arm stretching out to snatch a blanket off the bed to prove his point.

Miles reached out and grabbed Alex's wrist, shaking it as firmly as his weak grip and pain would allow.

" _Alex_...I was joking... _sorry_...I do that. _..a lot_...probably too much...seriously....if it weren't for you and your quick thinking... _you know._..I don't know...it would've been bad...you saved my life and I'm grateful...for everything you did... _thank you_..."

Alex's heart swelled at Miles' words and his chest tightened unexpectedly, but this time in a good way. He _did_ do something right, had made the right decisions, had helped someone in dire need, and had possibly, probably, definitely, saved his life.

_He_ did that.

Just him.

 

Alex looked down to where Miles' long fingers weakly circled his wrist, warm and insistent against the skin there.

Miles followed Alex's gaze and let his hand slowly fall away, knowing his touch and words had somehow calmed the boy. The crimson shade was slowly retreating from Alex's face while he combed nervous fingers through his hair and shrugged, brushing off his vital role in Miles' rescue and recovery.

" _Well_ , it was nothing...really...I'm just glad you're okay..." 

"Me too...thank you again... _I mean it_...I know it couldn't have been easy getting me here...having to hold yourself back and wait _all_ that time...when all you _really_ wanted was to peel off every layer of my wet clothing... _hmm, Alex?_ I'm sure you were just itching to get your hands on me and plaster your hot body next to mine... _to save me_..." Miles teased and giggled, hissing and clutching his side at the pain it induced.

Alex stood abruptly, angry, the red back on his face, flushing even darker.

"You know what, Miles?  _Fuck you!_ Ishould've left your pathetic ass out there in the bloody cold so you could fuckin' freeze to death...I can already tell you're going to be nothing but a fuckin' burden and I'm going to hate every fuckin' minute I'm stuck here with you!" He huffed as he marched toward the kitchen in a snit.

" _Alex!_ _Wait!_ _Oh my God!_ I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it...I shouldn't have... _shit_... _I'm sorry!_ " Miles' eyes widened as he pleaded, afraid he had hit a sensitive nerve or overstepped a boundary, pushing his joke just a little too far. 

"C'mon, Alex, _please_... _I'm sorry_...I was just joking!"

Alex stopped and glared at Miles for a moment before breaking out into a grin.

" _So was I._.."

 

Miles was in and out of sleep the rest of the day, his body doing its best to reserve its strength in order to recover and heal itself. He did manage to eat and drink a little during the short times he surfaced, which made Alex feel better.

The next morning, Miles heard movement and slowly eased his eyes open to watch Alex repeatedly bring in firewood from outside and quietly pile it high on the hearth for the day ahead. After completing the task, Alex hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves and tight beanie, and his hair exploded in a soft poof of staticky mess that gently clung to his face. Miles couldn't help but watch as Alex's fingers carded through the soft tangles, trying to tame them.

Miles' body was still excruciatingly sore and stiff, so he lay there, silent and motionless, watching Alex carefully place wood on the fire and stoke it before squatting to pet Boone where she had curled up. He talked to her in low, hushed tones and the pup lay back, shifting to expose her belly to his gentle hands, her tail thumping languidly at his loving praise.

Alex stood and glanced towards Miles, and a bright smile emerged when he saw he was awake. Alex pushed up his long sleeves and moved to the kitchen where he worked quickly, grabbing things before steadying a tray of bread, butter, and cheese as he joined Miles on the bed.

"Good morning..." He slid a piece of bread in his mouth and busied himself slicing the block of cheese, setting some on the small plate closest to Miles.

"What's this?" Miles supported his ribs by holding his palm flat against the side that hurt the most as he scooted back slowly into a somewhat upright position, trying to ignore the sharp pains shooting their way through his body.

"Thought we could have breakfast and talk a little today, but only if you're feeling up to it..." Alex looked hopeful as he smoothed a thin layer of creamy butter onto a bread slice and set it on Miles' plate.

"Yeah, yeah... _sure_...I'd like that..." Miles smiled, trying to keep his eyes away from Alex's wild, soft hair.

 

Between bites of food and keeping Miles' plate full, Alex told Miles a little bit about himself, including his need for solitude in order to get some writing done that winter.

He briefly mentioned the band, but downplayed their fame, and was pleased when Miles apologetically shook his head and shrugged, admitting that the name sounded familiar, but that was all, making the excuse that he wasn't really into music and always let his fellow employees choose what was played at work.

Alex took in a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling himself relax in relief.

Miles didn't have an agenda or a plan to use him, he didn't even _know_ who Alex was.

Alex knew he was being overly cautious, to the point of paranoia, but he was never going to make that mistake again, of allowing strangers with ulterior motives into his life and being vulnerable to their abuse. It was clear this wasn't going to be the case with Miles. Everything that had happened, everything that had brought Miles to the cabin, had been by chance, simply an accident and nothing else, and Alex berated himself for thinking otherwise.

And although he knew there was absolutely no reason to be suspicious, Alex still couldn't suppress the niggling reminder of his past mistakes, so he decided that the less said about his career and success, the better.

 

"So, Miles, what were you doing way out here, in the middle of nowhere, anyway?" Alex mumbled around a bite of cheese.

"I was trying to make it to the ski resort before the storm set in...and I guess I lost my way..." Miles picked up a piece of bread.

"The Chalet?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Miles took a small bite of the bread and chewed carefully, avoiding the injured side of his tongue.

" _Sure_ , my friends and I holiday there from time to time..." Alex shrugged, pushing more slices of cheese towards Miles, glad he was eating.

"A bit posh, aren't you?" Miles teased gently, taking another bite and chewing slowly.

"Well, we have an image to uphold, you know...nothing screams _rock and roll_ more than flying in for ski weekends...dating models...and trashing hotel rooms..." Alex grinned and Miles chuckled, nodding and humming in agreement.

Alex topped off Miles' glass of water. "You must really enjoy skiing if you were headed there...the place has phenomenal runs..."

"Oh... _no_...no skiing...I was going there for work...I was hired as their executive chef through the winter..."

"A chef? _Wow!_ You must be very good...their restaurant is excellent..."

Miles shrugged and joked loftily, his eyes dancing as he looked at Alex. "What can I say? I'm not only talented...I'm in hot demand...and I  _only_ cook for the rich and famous..."

Alex snorted, grinning around a mouthful of food. 

"Well, you were certainly traveling light...I brought your things from the car..." He motioned briefly to the corner where Miles' belongings were piled.

Miles' eyes fell on the duffle bag and his body suddenly ached and demanded the familiar, numbing relief its contents could provide. "Thanks for doing that...it was all very last-minute...I packed and shipped my other stuff...mostly clothes, some books...figured I'd be working most of the time..."

 

Alex cleared his throat and shook his head as they finished up and he began stacking the dishes on the tray. " _Well_ , Miles, I'm afraid you won't be going to work anytime soon...everything's officially closed for the season...looks like you're stuck here...but _now_ that we know who you are, a ranger can radio the resort and your family and let them know what happened...and that you're okay..."

"That'd be great, thanks. _Jesus!_ I'm so sorry about all this, Alex...ruining your chance to get away from it all...I'll try to be invisible so you can write..."

Alex shrugged. "It is what it is...it wasn't your fault, so there's no point in feeling bad about the situation...I'm sure we'll make the best of it..."

"Well, thanks again...for everything...I mean it... _Jesus!..._ this all feels like a bad dream...I keep expecting to wake up any minute now..." Miles shook his head.

"You should rest..." Alex patted Miles' leg and stood.

"I can't believe I lost a job _before_ it even started...guess it wasn't in the cards for me..." Miles let his head fall back against the pillows and he groaned at both the pain it brought and the situation he was in. "And I was _so_ looking forward to this chance at a new start..."

Alex looked down at Miles as he lifted the tray and nodded, giving him an understanding smile as he walked to the kitchen.

_So was I._

 

The following days passed slowly. Another storm barreled through, blanketing the already-fallen snow with another impressive layer of cold thickness, squashing any doubt that they were, indeed, snowbound.

Now that Miles was out of harm's way, Alex restarted his daily schedule and spent much more time outside, chopping and transferring wood, shoveling snow, and going for hikes if the weather allowed, now with the added bonus of having Boone by his side. Inside, his routine remained much the same with cooking meals, reading, and writing.

Miles still slept more than anything else. Everything was mostly a blur of pain for him, his body ached constantly and any movement seemed to provoke a deeper agony that was lurking in every joint and muscle, just waiting for him to move. His ribs gave him the most trouble, pulling moans and hisses from him when he tried to move, cough, or even laugh at his own jokes.

He quickly learned it was easier if he just remained still, letting his body rest and recover while Alex dutifully waited on him.

He frequently woke to Alex's gentle hands cleaning a wound and applying a new bandage. Miles would always murmur a sleepy thanks and Alex would always flush and nod, smiling softly in return.

Miles also tired easily and found that he had no lasting strength at all. He could barely stand before his legs started shaking and he became dizzy with every turn he made. He couldn't even grip his hands effectively, they were too weak and painfully stiff. The daily struggle became the trips to the bathroom, and Miles could only accomplish them with the help of Alex's strong arms circling his waist, supporting him as they moved slowly together across the floor, Miles leaning on him while focusing on walking without losing his balance or footing.

Often, when the aching and discomfort seemed to have no end, Miles thought about his duffle bag stacked in the corner and the powerful pain relievers it held, but he decided against it. He would suffer through his healing with the pathetically weak paracetamol Alex offered like clockwork, monitoring the dosages very closely.

After all, he _had_ wanted to make a new start.

Maybe _feeling_ things instead of ignoring and dulling them was part of it.

 

While Miles slowly gained his strength back, the two men spent a great deal of time on the bed, playing cards and board games.

They engaged in a lot of small talk during these games, the conversation flowing easily between them, nothing too personal, just an attempt to feel each other out and get a sense of their personalities.

Miles quickly discovered that Alex was an excitable boy who was easily toyed with and teased, but he was also extremely clever. Alex was a pleasant mystery to Miles, a soothing and calming contradiction, sometimes he was confident and joking with exaggerated swagger, while other times he was quiet, shy, and a bit hesitant.

Alex learned that Miles always seemed to be up to something, took everything in stride, and that he preferred laughing over being serious. In fact, Alex was fairly certain that Miles couldn't be serious to save his own life, but that didn't bother Alex, he was thoroughly enjoying Miles' charmingly chaotic ways and his free spirit.

Miles was also a natural raconteur, Alex thought fondly, _just like Matt,_ and he possessed that complete confidence that Alex had always envied in others and couldn't help being captivated by. It was the kind of confidence that showed Miles knew exactly where he stood in life, a confidence Alex knew he would never possess, no matter how long he waited nor how hard he tried.

 

One afternoon while playing Monopoly, Miles had just acquired the fourth, and last, railroad and was feeling quite pleased with himself.

"I'm renaming these the Kane Trains..." He announced as he proudly admired the four cards before carefully sliding the tops of each slightly under the game board to keep them neatly in place.

Alex stopped shaking the dice in his hands and his eyes widened, nearly bulging out of his head as his mouth fell open in shocked protest, as though Miles had just suggested something outrageous, like renaming the planets, renumbering pi, or relabeling the periodic table of elements.

"You can't just do that!" He sputtered out his response, staring at Miles incredulously.

"Why not?" Miles looked up innocently at Alex, eagerly anticipating the response he was about to witness.

The boy was quite predictable.

And there it was.

Alex shut his mouth into a tight, little pout when he realized he had no answer to Miles' question. Miles found it hard to look away from Alex with his lips plumped up like that, and he found himself wanting to touch them to see if they were as soft and frustrated as they looked.

"Because...because they already have names...that's why...they're _historical_ or something like that..." Alex finally groused, scowling, his fingers gripping and tugging the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

 

" _Well_ , they're mine now and I'm renaming the whole armada to Kane Trains, Incorporated..." Miles announced, simply shrugging off Alex's statement, unconcerned, leaning carefully back against the pillows, his arms slipping gingerly behind his head, working through his body's aches and pains.

"An _armada_ isn't for trains..." Alex mumbled, sulking and still silently appalled that changing the names of Monopoly properties was apparently _now_ an acceptable thing and that they had moved on from that earth-shattering revelation to actually discussing how to properly rename the said properties.

" _Well_ , it is now. What do you say, Alex, my boy, wanna ride on a Kane Train? I'll give you a special discount...for being _my hero._.." Miles fluttered his eyelashes, probably the only part of his body that didn't hurt, before finger gunning at Alex and winking wickedly, waiting for Alex's reaction.

And there it was, again.

Alex's pout deepened and his face reddened instantly, blushing hot and dark, and his brows furrowed in frustration while his mouth opened and snapped shut several times, wanting to respond, but unable.

Miles could see the heat practically escaping off the tops of Alex's scarlet ears and he marveled at how easily agitated Alex had become over simple teasing. Miles decided it was time to give the guy a break, but he couldn't help one last jab, one last view of a perfectly-flustered Alex.

Miles' hands untangled from behind his neck and he pushed himself into a more upright position, ignoring his body's protest as he strained forward and clapped his hands loudly together, causing Alex to jump.

" _All aboard!_ " He barked, grimacing at the tight pull of his strained muscles, but knowing it was worth it.

And there it was, again, back for an encore performance.

Alex's face flushed even darker in embarrassment and confusion and there went those lips again, puffing and parting distractingly, and Miles wondered briefly if he should be worried about his sudden fascination with Alex's mouth.

 

It wasn't like he was interested in Alex or anything like that.

He was still recovering from a very serious accident, after all. He just liked riling Alex up, it was almost too easy, and he took great pleasure in the indignant looks, pouty lips, and hot shades of red he could pull from the boy. 

Miles' lips twitched, wanting so badly to curl into a grin while he watched Alex muttering and shaking his head in disgust, rolling his big, dark eyes, and working through a silent conversation with himself about Miles' blatant disregard of rules as he furiously shook the dice trapped in his gentle hands.

No, Miles definitely wasn't interested.

He had no time, nor interest, in pursuing anything with Alex.

Getting involved in this extremely confined situation would be insane and doomed from the start - a very, very bad idea - and it was the last thing Miles needed right now. What Miles needed was to focus more on his own body and its healing and less on his generous host and his inviting lips, and just be happy counting the days, weeks, and months until he could be on his merry way back out into the real world.

Miles dragged his gaze over Alex once more before his eyes stopped again on Alex's mouth, his lips now glistening from too much nervous licking. Miles had to admit, though, that Alex did have a fucking adorable pout, and he imagined those lips would be incredibly hard for someone who was _actually_ interested in Alex to resist.

Good thing he wasn't even remotely interested.


	5. Chapter 5

Boone needed a bath.

Miles' recovery had been foremost on Alex's mind for the past week, but now that he was out of the woods, figuratively and literally, Alex could no longer deny that his beautiful, dark, and mysterious creature smelled a little too wild and woodsy for indoor living.

Alex whispered into the pup's ear as his fingers dug into the dense fur on both sides of her massive head.

"I love ya, Boonie, I really do...but you stink, darlin'...you need a good scrubbin'..."

He had just returned from the bathroom where he'd drawn a warm bath in the old, clawfoot tub. While doing so, he eyed the bubble bath that sat alongside the shampoo and hesitated only a second before shrugging and releasing some of the fragrant liquid beneath the water's flow.

Every little bit would help.

 

Alex tried to quietly coax Boone from where she lay, eyeing him, her tail thumping lazily, her pointed ears darting back and forth as he motioned for her to follow, wondering why her human wanted her in that little room when there was endless space outside to roam and play.

She finally rose and took her time stretching before slowly making her way into the bathroom.

Alex reached around her and shut the door, leaving it slightly open to allow heat from the big room to move in, but closed enough to muffle sounds that might wake Miles.

"Okay girl, hop in..." Alex motioned excitedly to the tub full of mountainous, translucent bubbles.

Boone looked at the tub then up at Alex, doubt and confusion in her eyes.

"C'mon, it won't hurt...it's nice and warm...and it smells all purply delicious...you'll love it...watch...I'll show you..." Alex stripped off his pajama pants and socks leaving himself in only boxer briefs and a t-shirt, and cautiously stepped into the water, the suds immediately attaching to the light hairs on his thighs.

"See? It's easy..."

Boone continued to stare, first at Alex, then at the bubbles.

 

"Maybe you need a boost..." Alex carefully stepped out and, with much effort, lifted her front paws onto the side of the tub.

Boone stood there, alarmingly tall on her hind legs, her front paws slipping on the wet porcelain, her claws scraping noisily along it, trying to find traction.

Alex gently nudged her rump with his knee, trying to get her to make the leap, but she wouldn't budge.

"C'mon, sweetie... _please_...for me? C'mon...just...you know...just...jump in!" He made hand gestures, motioning where she stood and where he wanted her, already realizing the whole endeavor had played out more smoothly and successfully in his mind.

Maybe he should've gotten her in the tub before adding water. And bubbles.

Oh well, learning curve and all.

Next time.

If there were a next time.

 

Boone warily eyed the bubbles again and then looked back at Alex, sensing his increasing frustration.

She would do it.

For him.

For her soft, sweet human whom she had rapidly grown to adore, she would do this.

Whatever it was.

She leaped in, quite gracefully for her size, barely a splash around her.

" _Oh my God!_ There you go, love! Such a good girl! Doesn't that feel nice?" Alex giggled and clapped, then dropped to his knees by the tub.

Boone stood there, the water and bubbles making the fur cling to her underbelly and legs, making them look like thin, soggy sticks, while the rest of her remained dry save her long tail, which was tucked under in partial humiliation as it disappeared into dense bubbles.

She still didn't understand what Alex wanted of her, but she was basking in the sudden wave of happiness streaming off his body.

" _Shit!_ I forgot something! Now...you be a good girl and stay right there...don't move... _please_...I'll be right back... _please_...just...don't move...okay?" Alex jumped up, eyes pleading, one hand motioning Boone to stay put while the other reached blindly for the door.

He disappeared and Boone looked down at the bubbles, her nose pressing and sniffing into them until they tickled and she lifted her head with an explosive sneeze, sending fragments of bubble clouds floating into the air.

 

" _Good girl!_ I'm so proud of you, darlin'..." Alex was by her side again with a plastic cup that he immediately started dipping in the water and pouring on her back.

Once Boone was entirely wet, Alex grabbed the shampoo and started working it in, his fingers diving deep into her fur, creating a rich lather. Boone remained still, enjoying the warm water, Alex's loving touch, and his constant words of praise.

"Who's the best girl in the world? You are! Yes, you are... _the best_...in the whole world...I love you very much...you know that, don't you? You're the _only_ girl for me...and now you're gonna be so fresh and clean..."

Boone preened, her tail swooshing bubbles and water.

If this is what her human wanted and it pleased him this much, then she was happy to oblige.

Boone felt the strong urge to be in his lap, _right now_ , to cover him with her tongue, to be as close as possible to her packmate.

Her forelegs lifted up on the sides of the tub, the pads of her paws holding her steady, but Alex yelped and shot up, blocking her from completely jumping out and becoming soaked in the attempt.

" _Now_ look what you've done...I'm soaked, darlin'...just like you...aren't I?"

Boone's wet tail thumped against the tub at Alex's nearness and she licked his face, trembling and whining at the love in his voice.

Alex giggled and squirmed, his face and shirt dripping, the water trailing down his bare legs while he unloaded more cooing praise on the pup as he gently directed her back down and continued bathing her.

"Such a naughty girl, aren't you? The naughtiest...and you're all mine...my sweet, sweet naughty pup...my beautiful Boondog..."

From the comforting confines of the bed, Miles couldn't help but smile softly as he imagined the tender, bonding scene between boy and beast being played out in the bathroom, mere feet away.

 

The following days passed much like the previous ones as the men fell into their new roles — Miles the Injured, whose favorite pastimes were sleeping and finding ways to fluster Alex; and Alex the Caregiver, who gladly tended to Miles' needs and thrived on being useful, especially now that Miles was clearly getting better.

Alex certainly wasn't happy about Miles' injuries. If given a choice, he would've preferred Miles showing up at the cabin simply lost, but that wasn't how things had happened. Miles had been badly injured and in desperate need of help, and Alex was happy that he'd been able to provide it.

Miles was still hurt, the sharp stabs around his ribs attested to that with every move, but he often felt more exhausted than anything else, like he'd just recovered from a vicious case of the flu. He ached deep inside and all he desperately wanted was to lie still and never use a muscle again, but he found it impossible to fight the restlessness that pushed him into motion, to even just shift in the bed a little.

While his body constantly warred with itself, Miles was forced to endure the pain. The drugs that Alex delivered like clockwork, down to the exact dosage at the precise minute, were barely supplying any noticeable relief.

 

"C'mon Miles, don't be such a baby...you can go deeper than that..." Alex challenged.

Miles glared at him.

 _What a little shit_. He really hated him. He'd like to see Alex try to do the same.

Miles' body refused to take more in. As it was now, his system was threatening to completely shut down and pass out. He simply couldn't suck in any more.

"I bet you...say that... _to_...to all...the guys..." Miles hissed the words out through clenched teeth and bated breath, still unwilling despite the pain to pass up an opportunity to tease Alex.

As a reward for his efforts, Alex predictably flushed, but immediately softened his stance when he saw that Miles was honestly struggling.

"You're doing really well, Miles...just try your best...suck in as much as you can...it'll get easier the more you do it..."

Miles snorted and Alex's face reddened further hearing his own words, but Miles graciously let them pass by without a snarky comment, instead nodding and inhaling a little more before letting the air escape his burning lungs, alleviating the sharp knifing that accompanied it.

Alex smiled and patted Miles' knee, pleased with his progress.

"Good job...and... _uh_...sorry about that...guess I went overboard...you know...I just want you to get better..."

Miles nodded and winced as his palm flattened against his ailing ribs.

Initially, Miles had fought everything Alex suggested, even refusing to cooperate at one point because the pain was too harsh, but he honestly couldn't stand seeing the panicked and defeated look in Alex's eyes, so he now mostly bit his tongue and found relief in teasing Alex instead.

Alex's blushing was a pleasure to watch and it briefly made Miles' pain more bearable, at least more so than Alex's weak meds.

"No problem... _Nurse Ratched_..."

 

Alex rolled his eyes.

If Miles wanted to be mad at someone and tease them and call them names, well, then he should take it up with Andy.

Andy was the one, after all, who'd given Alex the list of things to help Miles heal properly, including the task they'd just finished, where Miles had to take deep breaths to strengthen his lungs against pneumonia setting in.

Alex had eagerly jotted down Andy's instructions and read them back, word for word, excited about the new goals he'd been given, and damned if he wasn't going to do them all to the letter, as best he could.

Per Andy's list, Alex applied ice packs to Miles' ribs, sometimes changing them gently while Miles slept, and he also instructed Miles to shift and lie on his injured side. Miles had loudly protested at first, claiming it was insane, but he soon quieted once he saw the position was actually comfortable and allowed him to breath more easily.

Alex's shaky confidence was growing and nothing could sway him from his duties of aiding in Miles' recovery, so Alex simply dismissed and ignored his many complaints.

He really didn't care what Miles thought.

Miles' progress was the only approval Alex needed.

 

The nightmare always ended the same.

Miles looking up in time to see something that was out of focus and unclear, fear rising, then the feeling of losing control, of falling, being pulled into painful darkness, dread filling his entire being, smothering him, him wanting to stop it, bracing for impact, already knowing the horror that was to come, and then jolting awake at the moment he could taste the end.

" _Nooo!_ " Miles shouted out, sitting upright as he sucked in a deep breath, new pain in his ribs slicing through him. He was covered in sweat, his pulse racing, body trembling, his hands desperately clutching the bedsheets, the ache in his strained muscles shooting up his arms.

Alex jumped from the couch and was by his side within seconds, joining Boone who was already there.

"Miles... _hey_...it's okay...just a bad dream...you okay?"

Miles looked around, trying to plant himself in the here and now, far away from the reality of the dream. He managed a chuckle, less for himself, more for Alex, to convince him that he was alright.

"Yeah...fine... _I'm fine_...sorry about that..." He gasped out, still not fully awake, still trying to play it off, not wanting Alex to know it was a common occurrence, and felt too real.

"No problem...try to get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah, thanks..."

 

Miles lay back down, wincing as his aching fingers slowly and painfully relaxed their grip on the linen.

He pulled the covers up tight while Alex added another log to the fire and stirred the embers before returning to the couch and burying himself beneath a blanket.

Boone stayed by the bed, keeping a watchful and knowing eye on Miles. His aching hand drifted to the back of her neck, where his thumb massaged the thick muscle there, silently thanking the animal for staying close by and helping calm him.

Miles was restless the remainder of the night and he fought back thoughts of making his way to the bathroom and grabbing something from his duffle bag, something that would help him sleep dreamlessly.

He chose instead to be comforted and lulled to sleep by Boone's presence, the movement of the fire, and the low sounds of Alex's soft, steady breathing.

 

After a few more days, Miles felt he was strong enough to take a shower.

Alex had done an admirable job of cleaning him up as he lay mostly unconscious in bed that first week and the days that followed, but Miles knew a thorough cleaning with some hot water would do wonders for him.

Miles was still unsteady on his feet, so Alex always assisted him on his slow trips to the bathroom in case Miles became dizzy or felt faint.

"Fuck if I don't feel like an old man...needing help all the time..." Miles had grumbled the first time and every time after that when Alex accompanied him.

Miles didn't like needing Alex for damned near everything, he hated being weak, hated being a burden, but Alex was kind and gentle and never gave Miles the impression that he was imposing, and he really seemed to enjoy helping, was always eager to fetch some water or medicine, or to help him to the bathroom, or to check and clean his injuries.

"You're not an old man, you're just healing...and like I said, it's no problem, Miles...I'm just glad you're improving...pretty soon you'll be running circles around me and Boone..."

Miles nodded, hoping that scenario happened sooner rather than later every time Alex slid his strong, warm arm around Miles' waist.

 

He announced his intentions one morning and Alex looked up from his notebook, grinning. Miles was gaining strength and feeling better every day, and this was just another successful step in the right direction.

Alex jumped up and stood by the bed while Miles swung his legs over the edge, sitting a moment to make sure his head and body were in agreement.

Boone rushed up, her tail wagging and excited, thinking Miles was finally ready to play. She pranced excitedly in front of them, woofing and whining, as Miles and Alex began carefully making their way to the bathroom.

Miles chuckled at her.

"Sorry...not yet, Boondog...but I promise... _soon_...this old man will be better...one day...and then we can wrestle proper...okay?"

Boone stilled, her tail still wagging, as she watched Alex guide Miles into the bathroom, wondering if Alex was going to make Miles jump in the smelly bubble water, too.

 

Miles leaned heavily against the vanity and watched as Alex turned on the shower and set the water temperature before turning and helping Miles quickly remove his bandages.

Alex closed the bathroom door and walked towards Boone, his hand immediately finding the magical spot behind her ear, and he grinned as he looked down at her.

"I think he's become your favorite, girl...am I right? I think I might be a _wee_ bit jealous..."

Boone chuffed and pushed her head into Alex's hip, pushing him towards the fire, where he added more logs, knowing the air would be chilly for Miles after showering.

He then stripped the mattress of its sheets, balling the soiled linen and setting it aside for later laundering before remaking the bed with a crisp, fresh set, fitted-flat-blanket-flat just like his mom had taught him, puffing the pillows and folding the throws to finish the task.

"Nothing better than a freshly-made bed, isn't that right, Boone?" His eyes surveyed the picture-perfect scene, approving its lux, magazine-worthy look.

He then sat on the floor by the fire and Boone quickly joined him while they waited, Alex rubbing Boone's prone belly and listening carefully, not knowing if Miles might become faint and call out for him, or slip and fall.

Alex just wanted to be ready, if needed.

 

Miles moaned.

Taking a shower had been a great idea, the warm water loosened his stiff, sore muscles and he felt fresh and limber, still unsteady and weak, but so much better.

He stepped carefully out of the tub, his arms gripping a towel bar to brace himself until he was steady enough to run a towel over himself.

His duffle bag and suitcase sat on a low cabinet in the corner of the bathroom where Alex had set them so they would be within easy reach. Miles made his way to the bags and his hand rested longingly on the duffle before he set it aside, knowing he needed nothing from it at the moment.

He pulled from his suitcase a pair of boxer briefs and his only pair of jeans, and quickly decided against wearing either of his two dress shirts.

 

Miles emerged through a billowing cloud of steam, his smile loose and confident, his skin warm and damp, a new man.

And Alex's world flipped upside down in those brief seconds, when he suddenly saw Miles not as a needy, fragile patient but as an actual human being. Alex fought the instinct to politely turn away or avert his eyes, instead impulsively taking Miles completely in, not knowing where to look first.

Miles stood before him, shirtless, looking strong and soft and cool and warm, wearing a pair of dark jeans that cuffed perfectly at his bare feet and fit snugly along his thighs.

His upper body, which Alex had seen countless times by now, was still mottled with lacerations and bruising in various shades of healing, a kaleidoscope of purple, yellow, red, and blue. Some marks were fading while some, like the ones on his ribs, were still showing their darker, angrier, and more painful hues. Alex now noticed that, from a distance, the bruising was clearly in a pattern and followed the shape of the seatbelt strap that had sat diagonally across Miles' chest.

Miles' hair was a shaggy, wet mess and droplets of water raced their way over his skin while his long fingers gently ran up his lean torso, gingerly exploring the unbandaged cuts and scrapes before resting easily on his chest, splayed out, casually cupping a breast.

Miles had a lean and wiry frame, Alex already knew that, but that wasn't what had thrown Alex off and made his mouth go noticeably dry, it was Miles' button-fly jeans, which lay wantonly undone, exposing the skin below his navel and the trail of fine, dark hair that led into his boxer briefs.

 

Alex broke his trance by blinking rapidly a few times, his mouth immediately closing as he inwardly cursed the heat he felt rising in his cheeks.

Miles was looking at him and grinning, as if he knew exactly what had distracted Alex, and _fuck!_ Miles saw, he saw how Alex's eyes had lingered on him, how in the blink of an eye, Alex had taken a lazy lap across Miles, moving up from his feet, over his long legs, stalling longer than was polite on his gaping fly, before skimming over his tight belly and chest and meeting his eyes.

Alex realized Miles had said something that he had completely missed.

" _Uh...what?_ "

Miles wagged the denim flaps helplessly. "I can't button them...my fucking hands are still too weak...do you mind helping?"

Miles still couldn't grip anything too tightly, his fingers cramping easily, the muscles stiff and strained from clutching the steering wheel and fighting his shivering body in the cold.

 _"Uhm..._ sure..." Alex faltered, looking uncomfortably around the cabin, trying his best to appear casual and unaffected.

Miles stared at Alex, a smirk pulling at his lips, one eyebrow raised, waiting for Alex to move.

"Oh... _now?_ Of course...yeah...sure..."

Alex approached and tried to close the buttons from the front, but it was damn hard, his hands weren't working properly and he was a fumbling mess, so finally, and awkwardly, he lined up behind Miles to button them quickly, as he would do himself, doing his best to ignore that he was breathing in the sweet scent of Miles' freshly-washed, still-warm shoulders and his hands and arms were rubbing against Miles' lower torso.

 

"Thanks...can I still bum a shirt off you?" Miles asked.

Alex cleared his throat and nodded, motioning towards the dressers where his family kept an odd assortment of worn clothing. "Of course, like I said...help yourself to anything... _anytime_...no need to ask..."

Alex started moving across the room, away from Miles.

"Okay...great...thanks...guess my clothing has already arrived at the hotel...whereas _I've_ not..." Miles rambled on as he carefully leaned over and opened a dresser drawer, grabbing the first tee on top and slowly pulling it over his head and letting it fall, wincing slightly at the tight muscle pull when raising his arms.

Alex froze and stared at Miles, more precisely, stared at the shirt he had picked out.

It was one Alex and his mum had given his dad long ago for Father's Day, a slightly too large, worn, dark grey tee with a stretched out neck that was slightly separating from the rest of the shirt, displaying Miles' prominent clavicles quite nicely.

 

Miles tugged and straightened the borrowed shirt, and offered a slight grin when he noticed Alex's focused stare and small smile. He met Alex's gaze and the moment lingered, stretching just a bit longer than normal before they both broke away.

Alex snorted into a chuckle, which was not quite the response Miles was expecting.

As he pushed up the shirt's long sleeves, Miles' eyes fell on the words and image plastered across the front — _'Never Underestimate an Old Man and his Rod'_ complete with a caricature of a goofy geezer fishing from a ridiculously tiny boat.

Miles exhaled and chided himself, slightly disappointed when he realized that the tee was what had Alex staring and so transfixed.

Of course it wasn't Miles.

 _God_ , he was such an assuming idiot!

"Oh...sorry...didn't realize...this is your father's...should I choose another?"

"No, no...it's fine...it suits you... _Old Man_...or do you prefer I call you _Pops_?" Alex giggled, happy that the tension and focus in the room had redirected.

 

After Miles showered that first time, he started moving around on his own throughout the cabin.

He still tired easily, but felt stronger every day and enjoyed his newfound mobility, loved sitting in the leather chairs by the fire, his bare feet propped up and soaking in the heat, warming his entire body from toes to head as he scratched Boone's belly.

Eventually, when his ribs began aching, he would retreat to the bed and lie on his side just as Alex had directed, to give them a rest.

Now that Miles was doing so much better and was able to move around unaided, he felt an important issue needed to be addressed.

 

"Alex, I should... _uh_...start sleeping on the couch...hate to keep you out of your bed..." Miles offered one morning after breakfast, his face flushing as he rubbed the back of his neck rapidly. "Or we could... _uh_...share it?"

He really wasn't sure why he was feeling so timid about the subject.

Timidity wasn't in his nature.

Alex was piling their empty dishes on the tray and looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Are you sure, Miles? I don't want to force you...but it's a huge bed and I don't mind sharing if you don't...been sharing beds with the guys for as long as I can remember..."

"Yeah, no problem...but I can take the couch if you'd feel better that way...it's your place...and your bed, after all...I'm the one who came and ruined everything for you..." Miles shifted slowly, repositioning himself against the pillows.

Alex waved Miles off, not even considering what he had just said.

"Nonsense, I insist we share...the couch isn't optimal for your body to continue healing and, honestly, I'm used to it..." He picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen.

 

"Okay...then... _sharing_ it is...I'll try not to kick you..." Miles warned.

"Believe me...you can't be more challenging than sleeping with Helders on a full bed...I always feel like I've been through a boxing round after a night with him...and I won't bring up Mal talking and cuddling in his sleep _or_ Cookie's snoring and smothering..." Alex replied, grinning as he ran water over the dishes, lost in memory.

When Miles still hesitated, looking back and forth between the couch and bed, Alex rolled his eyes and sighed. "Seriously, Miles...it'll be fine...you're not going to kick me and I won't steal the covers...your virtue is safe..."

Alex walked toward the bathroom before he stopped, turned, and pinned Miles with a sly gaze.

" _Well, mostly_..." He quipped and let out a chuckle as he closed the door, leaving Miles speechless for once.

 

Alex leaned his back against the bathroom door, grinning, picturing Miles trying to wrap his mind around what Alex had just said, what had just happened, how Alex had reversed their roles.

Had he actually just flirted with Miles?

Why yes, he had.

Alex couldn't remember the last time he had flirted with someone.

And it felt good.

Real good _._

_"Uhm..._ really, Alex...I'm feeling much better and can take the couch...if this is too awkward..." Miles offered later that evening.

Alex slid under the blankets.

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied, puffing and arranging his pillow. "We're sharing the bed...it's plenty big enough...I honestly don't mind, so quit worrying about it...goodnight, Miles..."

Alex clicked off the lamp and curled up on his side, as far from Miles as possible. He was happy to be back in the bed, no doubt about it, its perfect ratio of hard and soft in addition to the crisp sheets and weighted blankets truly made it one of the seven wonders of the modern world.

Alex lay there, staring in the dim firelight at the old logs that made up the cabin wall, mulling over the only problem he could see with this new sleeping arrangement. Alex had a habit of cuddling when he slept, was fully aware of it, had been told that many times by his bandmates, who affectionately called him their cunning, little thief of warmth — his thin, lean body naturally drawn to any heat source and melting comfortably into it, giving as good as it was getting.

It wasn't a bad thing.

Cold, winter nights on tour usually found Matt, Jamie, and Nick playing Ro-Sham-Bo to see who was to share a bed with Alex, knowing he would keep them toasty.

 

Alex felt Miles move around behind him, getting comfortable, and he tried to push his silly worries away.

If it happened, it happened.

They could deal with it then.

Most things he worried about never happened anyway.

After a while, Alex closed his eyes and it took everything in him to fight his body's impulse to fling itself across the bed and burrow into Miles' side, sucking up his warmth.

He shifted slightly, settling his head into a more comfortable position on the pillow before closing his eyes again.

He could hear Miles' breathing as it fell into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep, and Alex focused on that and began drifting with him, their bodies soon syncing in slumber.

 

The waning fire made the shadows dance even higher as Boone moved silently through the darkened cabin towards the bed, sniffing the air, assessing the conditions of her two sleeping packmates.

Her large chest swelled with an overwhelming sense of belonging and pride. Things were coming together, an order was being established and it centered her, giving her peace.

Her second human, Miles, was gaining strength and getting healthier, and she was confident he was going to overcome his injuries and be a formidable companion. She craved to run and tussle with him.

And her first human, Alex, had finally calmed down, his fear and anxiety had lessened greatly and his heart now beat a soft, steady cadence that calmed and soothed her. She craved his hands on her, his praising voice, the love, the gentleness, the attachment.

Everything was good now.

Her pack was strong and together, and she would fight this time to keep it, would sacrifice her life to protect it.

Boone sniffed the air once more and then moved to the fire, where she circled twice, her paws working the wool blankets Alex had placed there for her, before lying down, curled up and content.

 

"Despite some questionable items in here, your freezer and pantry are pretty well-stocked...I'm impressed...we should have no problem with my extra mouth to feed..." Miles rummaged through the freezer slowly, still babying his tender muscles and sore ribs.

"Are you sure...your mouth seems pretty big..." Alex teased from the couch, then suddenly sat up. " _Wait_...what's questionable?"

Alex stood and made his way to the kitchen, immediately offended, having carefully planned out his meals down to every last spice.

Miles grunted, moved some large pieces of frozen meat aside and brought out a large box of Reese's peanut butter cups, the kind that needed two hands to lift, the kind people buy at warehouse stores.

Alex snatched the box from him and leaned against the counter, pouting, feeling judged. " _What?_ I'm going to be here through the winter...are you saying I can't have a treat now and then?"

Miles watched Alex caress the box in a disturbingly loving manner and _God!_ did he just whisper something to it?

Miles grabbed the box and returned it while Alex let out a pitiful whine. He rummaged around some more before popping his head up and looking at Alex, his expression part shock, part lecture.

"Alex! You've got _four_ of them in here!"

Alex pushed off from the counter and folded his arms across his chest defensively and glared.

"What's your point? They're my favorite! And I did the math...if I ration them properly, I'll have just enough to get me through until spring!"

 

Apparently, sharing a bed wasn't the only thing Alex did with his bandmates — constantly running around naked was another.

To be fair, it really only happened briefly after showering, but it seemed a lot longer to Miles, seconds may as well have been hours when Alex's pale, lean, and fit body was involved.

Thankfully, the cabin temperature alone kept Alex from parading around nude for too long, because Miles was fairly certain Alex would, if he could.

Normally, Alex's nudity wouldn't have been a problem for Miles, but it was still highly distracting, regardless of whether Miles was interested in Alex or not.

Which he wasn't.

 

The first time it happened, Alex had just come from the bathroom with only a towel clinging to his waist as he rummaged through the dressers for something to wear.

Miles took the moment to allow his gaze to skim between Alex's shoulder blades and down the gentle curve of his back, not in a leering way, but in a quick, casual assessment, like guys do.

But then Alex dropped the towel, and Miles couldn't look away even if he had wanted to, couldn't avert his eyes when Alex leaned over and guided each bare leg into a pair of boxer briefs.

Miles had to admit that Alex had a really nice ass, and honestly, why wouldn't he?

Of course his ass would match everything else about him.

Alex turned and smiled shyly at Miles, almost knowingly, as though his dark eyes had caught exactly what Miles had been focused on before Miles lifted his eyes and met his. Alex giggled nervously and quickly pulled on some pajama pants and a henley, the shirt obscenely clinging to his damp back and torso as he bent over and scooped up the discarded towel, rubbing it vigorously over his wet, messy hair.

 

After that, Alex's post-shower routine became Miles' secret, guilty pleasure, and he sometimes wondered if maybe Alex were doing it intentionally, as payback for all the teasing he'd endured from Miles.

Whatever the motive, whether innocent or planned, Alex seemed to be coming out of his shell more and more and was handling Miles' tormenting much better, he'd become an active participant, no longer just receiving snarky comments laced with innuendo, but delivering them as well.

A fact that only delighted and distracted Miles further.

Miles thought about the situation mostly at night, when they lay together in bed, each far on their separate sides, Miles imagining that Alex was deliberately putting himself out there in all his glory, allowing the towel to hang low, then falling off the jut of his hips, on purpose.

For Miles.

And then Miles' mind would go in all sorts of questionable directions it really shouldn't and he had to quickly chase those thoughts away.

It didn't really matter anyway because nothing would ever come from it, but that still wasn't going to stop Miles from enjoying every minute of Alex's brazen, bold, and bare displays.

 

A vaguely familiar and comforting scent hit Alex and Boone as they returned after a long afternoon of transferring wood and hiking.

Miles was eagerly pulling a hot pan from the oven when they made their entrance.

"Hope you don't mind...figured I needed to repay you for...you know... _everything_..." he grinned.

Alex took off his cap, shaking his head. "No need, mate, but thank you...it smells fantastic..."

"Well, I wanted to dazzle you with my mad skills with canned goods..." Miles bragged while inspecting his work, seemingly satisfied.

Alex grinned, watching Miles as he carefully dug into his creation. His eyes wandered over the man — the pajama pants, Alex's pajama pants, that clung to his hips, unsuccessful in their attempt to cover his hip bones, and an old concert tee, one of Alex's old concert tees.

Alex took off his gloves, coat, and scarf and hung them on the hooks by the door before sitting and unlacing his boots. Once they were off, he stood and adjusted his turtleneck before making his way to the kitchen.

Miles offered him a fork. "Try it..."

Alex smiled and glanced down at the casserole Miles was fussing over, only to see a jumbled mess of unappealing mush with questionable colors.

Alex hesitated. " _Uh_...isn't the chef supposed to take the first bite...you know...to make sure it's acceptable...and _safe_?"

Miles stared at him, still holding the fork Alex was reluctant to accept.

Alex eyed the dish again.

Right now, his boring, predictable stew was looking pretty good.

 

" _C'mon_...try it...I'm a bloody chef...this is what I do..." Miles insisted.

"You should try it first...make sure you approve..." Alex countered.

" _Jesus_ Alex, you act like I'm offering you a pork soda or making you eat mayonnaise from a jar...just try it!"

Alex looked back and forth from Miles to the casserole. "Boone, if I keel over...attack this man..."

Miles huffed and Boone woofed.

"You failed to mention you were a picky baby when going on and on about being a rock star... " Miles couldn't hide his slight irritation.

"I'm not picky, nor a baby...I just like to be able to identify what I'm eating...haven't you heard the old saying about eating first with your eyes?"

" _C'mon_...just trust me, Alex..."

Alex scoffed.

Sure, just trust him.

Easier said than done.

Alex took a deep breath and snatched the fork from Miles, plunging it into the dish before bringing it to his lips, blowing on it, and shoving it into his mouth.

Miles watched Alex's lips as they shut around the forkful, his eyes fluttering as he slowly pulled it back empty, moaning, a bit obscenely. The sound unsettled Miles and he had to gather all his strength to pull his attention from Alex's mouth to his eyes.

Alex held up his hand, nodding while he chewed, and then brought another forkful to his mouth, and those lips, again.

 

Miles grinned and stepped back, crossing his arms and leaning against the far counter, his cockiness returning. "Well?"

Alex chewed and swallowed. "Fuckin' delicious...tuna and noodle casserole?"

"You had the tuna and soup...and the pasta...so I figured go with an oldie but a goodie..."

"Well, it certainly doesn't look as good as it tastes..." Alex tried to defend his hesitance.

"I would've made an impressive topping of fried onions and broiled it until golden and crispy, but alas, your pantry lacked that ingredient..."

"Haven't had it in ages...and _thank God_...no peas!" Alex grinned through another mouthful.

"Definitely no peas...so, have I got the job? Can I stay and earn my keep by cooking?"

Both men chuckled, knowing they were stuck together until the thaw.

 

A hurried montage ran through Alex's head, of himself sitting at the table while Miles presented him with extravagant dishes over and over again, the food getting fancier and fancier, the portions larger and larger, the garnishing more and more creative, Miles setting each feast before him with dramatic flair and Alex eating and eating and eating in speed motion until his belly proofed out and he rubbed it tenderly, the grin on his face soft and lopsided, his hungry desire completely sated.

He pulled himself from his thoughts, knowing Miles was watching, waiting for a response.

Alex's eyes roamed slowly, deliberately, up and down over Miles as he leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest in smug conceit, the concert shirt, Alex's concert shirt, riding up a bit on his belly, his long legs stretched out and crossed easily at the ankles.

Alex smirked.

"Absolutely, Miles, if you keep my tongue and mouth this happy, you can stay as long as you want..." Alex sauntered off to the bathroom, grinning, not having to look back to picture Miles standing there with his jaw dropped and imagination running wild.

 

Alex looked through the small window into the dark, icy blue world.

The sun hadn't appeared yet, but the sky was starting to lighten as it approached, ready to warm the cold, cold earth as best it could.

It had begun snowing heavily the evening before and a nasty wind had picked up during the night, the warm air fighting for position with the cold air, whistling and screaming its way around the cabin in bursts, the foundation logs moaning, bracing themselves.

The frigid, grey blueness outside sat in sharp contrast to the yellow and oranges of the large fire Alex had just rekindled that was working its warming influence throughout the room.

Alex peered out, watching the pine branches fight the unforgiving winds, a warm mug of coffee safely held between his palms sending off a neverending whisp of steam. He'd sip from it occasionally, contemplating whether to go out into the bone-chilling cold and wind and take care of his daily chores or to put them off until the weather was more agreeable.

Alex sighed.

 

"You don't need to go out, do you?" Miles' soft voice from the bed broke the easy silence of the room, pushing through the shadows that played around the light and dark. From the muffled sounds of the blistering wind alone, Miles knew it was treacherous outside.

Alex looked over at him, smiling, clutching the warm cup even tighter.

"No, but I like to keep the pathways to the outbuilding and stacks of firewood clear...the deck, too...if I let the snow get ahead of me, it'll get too deep...and it'll be that much harder to shovel next time..." Alex's voice matched Miles' in its early morning softness.

"I'll help...you know...when I can...anything I can do...to make your burden lighter..." Miles offered.

Alex smiled again, looking down into his cup. "It's not necessary...if you weren't here, I would've still had the same amount of snow to deal with...you haven't changed that, Miles...I knew what I was getting into...being alone here...I wanted it...probably needed it..."

"Well, I'm still going to help as soon as I can...I'm not letting you do all the work, Alex...I should be helpful in some way, not just cooking...I want to help you...to make a difference...as soon as I'm able..."

 

Alex looked through the darkness to where Miles lay, his face illuminated by the fire's glow, and his chest tightened pleasantly at Miles' insistent offer and he swallowed down a small lump that was trying to form in his throat.

It was a nice feeling, being present with someone, talking, having a genuine moment, a real conversation, nothing underhanded, no ulterior motive, just two people respecting each other, being honest, and wanting to help each other out.

It was something he could get used to.

The room fell silent again, just the sound of the fire crackling and hissing, and Alex smiled and nodded before turning his gaze once more out the window, the dim, dark world a little brighter than before.


	6. Chapter 6

What we plan for ourselves isn't always what life has planned for us.

Alex really should've known that, perhaps even planned for it.

He'd been fully prepared to ride out the winter in absolute solitude, but that all changed when Boone emerged from the woods and gave him not only inspiration, but the desire to earn her trust, a goal achieved when his mysterious muse left the forested shadows and entered the cabin, and his heart, completely.

Then Boone had led Alex to Miles, and a fresh challenge replaced the old as the three quickly adapted to their new situation.

Alex already had a pretty consistent routine of managing firewood and shoveling, hiking and cooking, and reading and writing, but it was still surprising how easy it had been to add Miles and Boone, as though they were filling an empty spot Alex had been unaware of, neither crowding nor in the way.

Alex continued on with his daily chores, now with Boone tucked tightly by his side outdoors and Miles fitting in smoothly indoors, each man having his own spot at the table, in front of the fire, and in the bed.

 

Their routine was fairly basic.

Every morning, Alex would quietly prepare breakfast while letting Miles sleep in, knowing he could still benefit from any extra rest.

Miles usually woke soon after to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and after they ate, Alex would help check and clean what little was left of Miles' wounds, tending to the cuts and scrapes on his back and head while Miles took care of the abrasions on his arms and torso.

Alex then headed outside to split, stack, or transfer wood and shovel snow while Boone disappeared into the woods, bounding in and out frequently to check on Alex before happily running off again, thriving as the guardian of her little pack of humans, the species she had only just recently mistrusted and avoided.

She'd quickly learned not all humans were the same, like how not all plants smelled alike and not all animals reacted to fear the same way, how their blood had distinct odors and tastes, and how the scent of the air changed throughout the course of day and night.

Humans, too, had variety within their own species.

Not all men were cruel and dangerous.

Not all were to be avoided.

Boone fed off the simple interactions she had missed from her old pack — the touching, the bonding, the nudges, the closeness, and the playfulness.

And she loved every tiny detail about her men, loved their scents and their sounds and the way Miles would stroke her fur while talking to her in front of the fire and the way Alex would jump back, startled and squeaking out, his heart thumping wildly, whenever she returned after chasing prey through her woods, proudly dropping a bloody offering lovingly at his feet.

Boone was now as completely devoted to her humans as they were to her.

 

Once the morning chores were finished, Alex and Boone usually set off hiking one of the many trails Alex and his family enjoyed during the summer. Some were long and some short, and some were easier while others more difficult, even before factoring in the wintertime hazards of freezing temperatures, snow, and ice. 

Alex was all about making safe decisions now, and he would always choose a path after carefully considering the current and forecasted weather, picking a trail he felt would be strenuous, but not too challenging. He never wanted to make an error in judgement or timing and be caught too far from the cabin if an unexpected storm moved in quickly, which they were sometimes known to do.

Alex and the pup would return in the early afternoon, both cold and tired on the outside, warm and exhilarated on the inside.

Miles would greet them from the kitchen where he moved about with easy confidence, grabbing needed ingredients and utensils almost without looking as he made a delicious variety of warm and hearty lunches for them, all definitely a step up from Alex's simple stew. 

When lunch was ready, they would sit and eat and talk, Alex about the hike or tasks he wanted to accomplish later that day and Miles about trivial things or ideas he had for dinner. Occasionally, a longer conversation would start up and they would linger at the table.

The meal was usually followed by Alex finishing up with projects outside and then shared quiet time in the cabin, either reading, writing, or napping, or a combination of all three. Sometimes, if snow was actively falling, Alex would head out again to shovel.

After their long, lazy afternoons, Miles would make a light dinner while Alex showered and they would then play games or maybe read and write some more before heading to bed, each tucked warmly in on their designated side.

And so it went.

 

Despite his decision to be completely isolated during the long winter, Alex was honestly happy to have someone to talk to again.

He craved conversation, had always been the talkative one within his group, loved cuddling up next to a bandmate and talking the night, the day, the flight, or the road trip away. He chatted away in movies, oblivious to the disruption he was causing, always shocked, and a little hurt, when others shushed him. He began conversations with total strangers in any store, struggling through any language, discussing anything.

Alex was also a great listener, yet another reason Nick, Jamie, and Matt eagerly welcomed him by their sides, loving to wile the time away with Alex, who could not only spin a story or recount an event in minute detail, but could also lend a sympathetic ear and offer sage advice.

Perhaps it was his need for constant interaction that had led Alex into trouble when the tour ended. He hated being alone and, with the guys busy with their own families, he had desperately tried to fill the void in LA, a notorious cesspool of dishonest people just waiting to pounce, to latch on and use someone like Alex, someone who had ample means and connections, but who was also weak and in need, in order to bleed him dry.

As time passed, the men talked and learned even more about one another, putting them further at ease in the unusual, confining situation they were now in. They played well off each other, often starting on one topic before morphing crazily into another. Their conversations naturally drifted into more personal territory, but they kept the topics light, neither man pushing for more than the other was willing to give, each allowing the other to subtly redirect when necessary.

There were also many times they didn't talk, when they found themselves enjoying the easy silences that stretched out between them, both feeling no pressure to simply fill space, completely relaxed in each other's presence while each did his own thing.

 

Initially, Alex had hesitated sharing more than just small talk with Miles, and rightfully so, with the bad memories of opening up to strangers and leaving himself vulnerable still fresh in his thoughts.

But somehow, this felt okay.

Miles put off such a laid back and relaxed vibe that Alex immediately felt comfortable around him, like they were old friends simply catching up after months apart.

Miles had this honest intensity and genuine focus that reassured Alex and gently coaxed him into opening up even more. He soon shared the self-doubt that had plagued him from an early age, how he hated being called on in class despite knowing the answers, and how he preferred learning by observing.

Miles countered that he was pretty much the opposite, always wildly volunteering answers and giving wrong ones even though he knew the right ones just to disrupt the class and elicit laughs from his peers. Everything Miles did, he freely admitted, was for the attention it would receive.

Alex chuckled at that.

So many things about Miles reminded him of Matt, Jamie, and Nick, and Alex felt his guard falling even further before he caught himself and quickly mentioned to Miles that he never sought out new relationships because the band was all he'd ever needed, even now. He didn't want to give Miles the wrong impression, to make him think a permanent friendship was going to form from this time together. 

Perhaps Alex needed the reassurance and reminder as well.

Miles smiled, commenting that he had no desire to build relationships of any kind, professional or personal, and he preferred being a loner in every aspect of his life. It was easier that way, no hard promises, no complications, no regrets.

Alex nodded, taking in what Miles had said, relieved.

Out of all the people in the world forced to share time and space, he and Miles couldn't have been more perfectly matched, both wanted to be alone, but were also willing to work together to make things pleasant until the thaw came, when they could completely cut ties and head off in their own directions.

Perfect.

 

Before being stranded in the cabin with Alex, if someone had asked Miles his thoughts on being stuck with the same person, day in and day out, his skin might've literally crawled with anxiety.

Miles didn't do hanging out.

He didn't do friends.

He didn't do romantic relationships.

His only focus was doing what he wanted, doing it well, and then being done with it. He couldn't be a disappointment or hurt others if he remained distant, so that is what he did.

He chose to be alone.

But to his utter shock, there was something about Alex and their current living arrangement that truly settled Miles and made him feel content.

Alex was a crazy mixture of contradictions — he was strong yet fragile, confident yet nervous, graceful yet awkward, and he'd be happy and laughing one minute, then closed off and quiet the next. Alex's mystery drew Miles in and he wanted nothing more than to crack the boy's hidden code and decipher what made him act and feel the way he did.

And Alex was so fucking easy to talk to. He'd stop whatever he was doing and sit up, his body fully engaged and actually listening to what Miles had to say, leaving no doubt that he was interested and completely focused on Miles.

It was nice.

And encouraging.

And, sometimes, it was also pleasantly distracting.

Especially when Alex would sit back, nodding, listening to Miles, his arms bent and resting above his head, his fingers carding though his long hair, pulling it into a small tail and holding it there awhile, tugging on it, before releasing it and doing it all over again, waiting for Miles to finish before offering his own insight on the topic.

Miles couldn't look away, enjoying Alex's hair play immensely.

 

Miles' plan had been simple and par for the course — take the job at the resort and gain another impressive recommendation before continuing on to a new restaurant in a new city where he wouldn't stay very long, never growing roots nor building any lasting relationships beyond the superficial.

Miles was completely happy with his life choices, they'd worked for him this far and he couldn't see why they wouldn't continue working for him.

But Alex and their time together was throwing Miles off a little, had loosened something that had been stubbornly wedged in his chest.

Things felt weirdly normal, almost making Miles believe he could have a friend, a friend he cared about who also cared about him. Alex made Miles feel like he could allow himself to get close to someone and actually have a meaningful relationship again.

If he wanted.

Which he didn't.

But it was still nice to know.

 

They quickly discovered a shared love of reading, though for different reasons.

Alex wanted to learn and experience and be drawn into the author's thoughts, descriptions, and feelings while Miles read for the simple pleasure of escaping to a different world where he could leave his own worries behind while getting lost, even if only for a while.

"First three classic books you remember reading..."

Quite often and out of the blue, one would pose a list question for the other to answer.

They enjoyed it, enjoyed having someone who was actually interested enough to ask. It was a new feeling for both, Alex recently surrounded by people who had no desire to get to know the real him, and Miles never allowing anyone close enough to ever ask.

Alex set his book down, smiling, wrapping his arms around himself and clutching his shoulders in a warming self-hug as he started thinking about Miles' question.

"Define classic..."

 

Miles mulled it over.

"I guess a chaptered book...well-known and revered...but not a children's book like Make Way for the Ducklings or Where the Wild Things Are..."

Alex grunted, nodding, one hand running to stroke his chin as his memory floated back to when he was a kid. " _Shit_...Heidi? Is that a classic?"

Miles nodded. "Definitely a classic..."

"Okay, then it's Heidi... _uhm_...The Call of the Wild...and...I don't know... _fuck_...probably Robinson Crusoe..."

Miles chuckled.

"Got a little wilderness theme going there, Alex...and look where you are now..." He teasingly motioned around the cabin.

Alex nodded and shrugged.

"Maybe my younger self knew something about my future self..." He grinned as he watched Miles roll up the sleeves of the flannel shirt he had on, Alex's flannel shirt.

"You know, Miles, just watching you reminded me of another one of my favorites...The Borrowers...so make it four...what are yours?"

" _Ha ha_...very funny...let's see...The Hobbit, Arabian Nights, Alice in Wonderland, and...I guess the bonus fourth would have to be Gulliver's Travels..." The titles rolled easily off Miles' tongue with no hesitation, the advantage of knowing the question before it was posed.

Alex lifted his brows and nodded, fully approving of Miles' choices.

"A bit into the fantasy realm...the fantastical journey...yeah?"

"Yeah...was really into that sort of stuff when I was younger...when there were no limits on what I thought I could do...or be...but I don't know...guess I lost my fascination over it..."

 

Alex looked over at the large, antique bookshelf in the corner that was weighed down heavily with stacks upon stacks of worn, dog-eared books, sitting horizontally and vertically into a crammed type of chaos, an organized mess.

There was no denying his family loved to read, bringing their favorites to the cabin over the years, and he had read every book on those shelves, some countless times.

Alex sighed.

"I've already gone through nearly all the new novels I brought. Nick gave me a gadget before I left and I guess he put a bunch of bestsellers onto it. I've been meaning to figure out how to work it, but I've been a bit busy...with unannounced guests..." Alex grinned mischievously at Miles and Miles grinned right back, not taking offense at the slight jab, knowing it was meant in fun.

The two had settled in comfortably with each other and had quickly learned the other's preferences and nuances. They knew when a joke was a joke, when to listen and when to share, naturally complementing each other in the give and take.

"It sounds like a Kindle, or something like that. I can help you with it, but I've also got a great historical novel in my bag...remind me sometime and I'll dig it out for you. I finished it on the way here...you'll like it..."

"Great, thanks. I'll probably take you up on that. I really prefer holding something in my hands...there's a satisfaction in turning each page. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, yeah...completely. Nothing better than a real book..." Miles nodded and moved to the floor to scratch Boone's belly.

 

Miles was up and walking around again, moving easily about the cabin with purpose and a smooth fluidity that Alex admired.

He was still slightly favoring his injured side, but it was hardly noticeable.

Alex watched him for a moment.

He looked the most rested Alex had ever seen him, and that fact alone made Alex smile, knowing Miles was nearly completely healed.

Miles stopped in front of the fire and eyed several framed photos on the mantel, the color of each slightly off and blurry in a way that indicated their age.

They were taken at the cabin, mostly pictures of Alex, his parents, and a few other people who Miles assumed were relatives, and one of four young boys on the deck, all sweaty, tanned, and smiling.

Alex was easy to pick out, the skinny, wide-eyed, and happy one.

Miles couldn't help but grin.

 

Alex had just shut his journal and was sliding the pen slowly through the wire coil when he saw what Miles was studying.

"Those are the guys...the band. We'd just finished building the deck." He offered.

"Who's this one? With all the hair?" Miles pointed to the boy who was standing next to Alex, arm slung loosely around him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Matt." Alex tried to hide a smile.

"And this one? Mr. Universe?" Miles pointed to the lad in a tank top, posing and flexing muscles that really weren't quite there yet.

"Jamie."

"And him? The one in the back?" Miles referred to the last boy who was peeking out between Alex and Matt with smiling eyes and a soft gentleness about him, narrowly making the shot before it was taken, his arms stretched out to envelop them all.

"Nick." 

"They look like a fun group of guys..."

"They're like brothers. Do you have any siblings?" Alex smiled and glanced over at Miles, interested.

Miles pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, no I don't. These guys, Alex...they love you. I can easily see it...the bond you share. You're very lucky to have people like this in your life..."

Alex's smile faded fast and he stood instead of immediately replying. "I know. It's when I forget I have them that I get into trouble..." His voice was gravelly, troubled.

Miles looked over at Alex, concerned over his sudden change of demeanor.

He wanted to ask more, but Alex had already thrown on a coat and boots and had hastily headed out the door, pulling up his hood and mumbling something about checking the generator.

Boone slid out with him.

Miles stared at the closed door, berating himself, wondering what he'd said that upset Alex.

_Christ!_ He couldn't even have a conversation without hurting someone.

 

There were two very different types of Alex when he was writing.

There was the cool-headed one who grinned as his hand flew across the page, and there was the frustrated one who appeared to be living through some sort of internal pain when he had nothing worthy of putting pen to paper.

Miles wasn't too fond of the times when Alex seemed stuck. They were rare and short-lived, but it still upset Miles to see the deep, desperate pain that darkened Alex's face as he struggled.

Getting the words wrong.

Wasting the meaning.

Losing the rhyme.

More often than not, though, Alex would stop writing and frown at his notebook, his brows furrowed and a pouty lip caught between his teeth as his pen tapped on the page while he pondered over an image or choice of words. Then, just as abruptly, the tormented lip was released into a nod and sly grin appeared as the words started flowing to the paper once more.

Miles grew fond of watching Alex writing in all his lip-sucking and pen-tapping glory, especially when he was flooded with creativity. Miles would slide deeper into the leather chair and secretly study Alex immersed in one of his many tattered notebooks, his fingers tightly clutching his pen, words pouring onto the page as quickly as they entered his mind. The pattern repeated over and over, and Miles couldn't help being pulled into the process, feeling both excited and elated over Alex's unknown creation.

 

At first, Alex had been worried about having someone so close by while he tried to write, but it ended up not being an issue at all.

He usually lost himself when writing anyway.

Once in a while, though, Alex would surface and he could feel eyes on him as he scribbled away, could just feel that weird sensation that he was being stared at, but when he looked up, he would usually find Miles engrossed in a book or on the floor, petting and murmuring softly to Boone.

Only rarely would Alex catch Miles glancing at him.

The awkward moment would pull sheepish, lazy grins from both boys before Alex dove right back into his writing and Miles back into whatever was currently holding his undivided attention.

 

Alex was lost in his journal again, not in a good way, and it was nearly enough to drive Miles mad.

Alex would huff and puff and grunt while opening and shutting the book, then he'd throw his head back and hold his breath, staring up at the wooden beams for longer than was healthy for his eyes' moisture levels before releasing the captive air with a whoosh and then doing it all over again.

And again.

And again.

After just under a half hour, Miles couldn't take it anymore.

There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on the mystery novel he'd pulled from the bookshelf, so he gave up all together and decided to keep busy by rummaging through the closet where the board games were stored.

Something toward the back caught his eye.

 

"Well, well, well...what do we have here? _Property of Alexander David Turner - Adults Keep Out!_ " Miles read the title of the notebook he'd just freed from its crammed position, wedged between a backgammon set and Monopoly box.

Alex looked up, questioning, not sure what Miles was referring to until his eyes landed on what he was holding in his hands.  
He eagerly abandoned his troublesome journal and quickly met Miles halfway across the room where Miles handed him the notebook and they settled in at the table.

" _Shit!_ I haven't seen this in ages!" Alex opened it and slowly turned each page, his eyes hungrily scanning over every detail.

He stopped on what looked like a scoresheet. It had Alex, Matt, Jamie, and Nick's names written across the top in different scrawl, Jamie including Cook just in case his friends confused him with another Jamie at the cabin that weekend.

Alex giggled, his fingers lightly floating over the paper.

From what Miles could tell, Nick must've won whatever game they'd been playing as there were higher numbers in his column, and it looked like Matt had gotten bored sometime during the game and turned all his zeroes into boobs, balls, and penises.

There was also a crudely drawn stickman holding a huge arrow sign with the word CHEATER written on it, pointing to Nick's name. Nick must have responded to the accusation by crossing out the other names and writing LOSER above each.

Miles snorted at the story one simple piece of paper told, imagining the young boys bickering back and forth.

 

Alex moved on to some pencil drawings, each with the initials ADT in the bottom corner, some depicting fruit on the cabin table, others the cabin itself, and still others a lake surrounded by trees and rocks.

"I drew these when I got bored without the guys here. I know they're shit, but I can remember each one... _vividly_...where I sat...what I was thinking while sketching..."

The pictures were decent, if not mechanical, Miles could tell Alex had taken basic art classes focusing on perspective, shading, and lighting, but hadn't yet found that inner voice to tempt him into venturing from structured methods to finding his own way.

"They're actually pretty good, Alex. You should take up drawing as a hobby...or a diversion..."

Alex froze, his eyes wide and still staring at the paper. He'd recently become very suspicious of random compliments, knowing that flattering words weren't always genuine and were sometimes used against him.

But he recovered quickly.

This was Miles, after all, who wasn't a threat.

" _Thanks_..." Alex voiced softly, flushing at the kind words, his palm sweeping gently over the drawings as though the paper were crumpled and needed flattening.

 

Alex let out a small noise when he came to the last page.

Written in bubble letters across the top was OUR BAND and beneath were short phrases covering the entire page. 

It looked like they might be reasons to form a band, but Miles wasn't sure and he didn't want to shatter Alex's quiet reflection by asking.

The fragments bordered on silly to serious — _to get birds, travel, NO curfew, smash guitars, independence, not be crack whores, date supermodels, rock & roll, $money$, meet our idols, fast cars, wear hair gel, be the best band ever, trash hotel rooms, Glastonbury!!!, cool motorcycles, be like Steve McQueen,_ and _conquer the world_ adorned the paper, written this way and that in different handwriting and different colored ink and pencil, each boy adding his own thoughts and dreams.

The words undoubtedly held great meaning to Alex.

Alex turned the paper to reveal a simple drawing depicting the four of them, either done by someone other than Alex or long before Alex had taken art classes.

Matt was behind a ridiculously massive drumset with three base drums and way too many cymbals towering way above him, his hair wild and his arms raised high above his head, drumsticks in the air.

Nick had his shirt unbuttoned and lipstick kisses on his neck, face, and chest, playing a guitar with flames shooting from it.

Jamie was in a football uniform and playing a guitar while kicking a football into the crowd, medals around his neck, trophies at his feet

And then there was Alex, drifting atop the raised arms of the faceless audience, crowd surfing, one leg straight in the air, playing his guitar, eyes closed, and smiling.

A line was drawn at the bottom of the page, separating the drawing from a question that simply asked, "Do you want to be in the band?" Below it was each boy's name alongside two boxes, one labeled _yes_ , the other _no_.

Each boy had checked the _yes_ box.

Miles smiled.

So _that's_ how bands were formed.

" _God!_ We must've been about thirteen when we did this...it was well before any of us even had instruments, much less knew how to play...it were just a dream... _you know._..to be in a band or to be a famous athlete..." Alex sniffled, unable to tear his eyes away from every aspect of the drawing.

"I've got to show this to the guys...when I go back..." He sighed, finally shutting the notebook with reverence.

Miles sensed that the trip down memory lane had taken a lot out of Alex, maybe not physically, but emotionally. He patted him on the shoulder as he walked towards the kitchen.

"C'mon, let me make you something to eat...your choice tonight..."

"Thanks, Miles...anything easy...and Reese's for dessert!"

Alex's mood shifted watching Miles move through the cabinets with precision and purpose, his arms still lovingly holding the notebook and its memories close to his chest, and even closer to his heart, protecting them.

 

Miles liked to touch himself.

Not _touch himself_ -touch himself, though Alex sometimes wondered what Miles' insanely long fingers got up to when he was alone, but he quickly shook those thoughts from his head.

The fact remained that Miles touched himself in a way that was completely distracting and Alex had a mind to bring it to his attention or maybe even tease him about it, but he soon found himself unexplainably enjoying the display.

Why on earth would he risk stopping the show?

Especially if it were something Miles did unconsciously.

As Miles read, he'd tilt his head, stretching his long neck out, his fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin, back and forth, over and over, before they would wander to the other side, his body lazily adjusting to accommodate.

Sometimes Miles would rest a palm on his chest over his shirt, Alex's shirt, his thumb mindlessly dragging over a nipple, which Alex casually observed was very sensitive and receptive. At the point, though, when Miles' hand slipped under the fabric, Alex would have to call an end to the private show, stalking out of the area, usually to the kitchen for a snack, sometimes outside for a cold blast to his system if the visions had really taken over his brain.

Other times, Miles would hold one arm high in the air, book balanced in his lap, his other hand lightly grazing the forearm of his elevated limb, up and down, up and down, spreading goosebumps from his toes to his scalp, tightening his skin in tactile pleasure.

And still other times, his fingers would vacillate between touching and tapping lightly on his lips or slowly caressing and rubbing the back of his neck, usually when he was deep in thought or planning his next move in whatever game they were playing at the time.

Alex was convinced that Miles was totally unaware that he was even doing it, this type of self-pleasuring, if Alex could call it that. It must just be a comfort to him, the touch, the caress, feeling skin on skin. 

Whatever it was, it was distracting as hell, but Alex found himself stealing glances, regardless, hoping to find Miles' fingertips mindlessly exploring his body, unable to look away.

 

Alex and Boone were approaching the forest's end, the last few yards before they reached the cabin's clearing, when Alex spotted Miles sitting on the deck.

It was the first time Miles had been outside since the accident, and Alex paused at the sight.

Miles looked good, great in fact. He looked healthy and happy sitting on an Adirondack chair, bundled up with a wool blanket wrapped snugly around him.

Alex could make out a smile brightening Miles' face when he saw them emerge from the cover of trees.

"Hey!" One of his gloved hands sneaked out from under the blanket to wave in their direction.

Boone rushed up the steps to Miles and buried her head in his lap. His other hand appeared and both wrapped around her while he buried his face with hers, murmuring that her fur was so, so cold.

"Hey back at you, thought you'd be napping..." Alex grinned as he approached the deck and began brushing the snow from his pant legs and boots. 

Miles lifted his head and giggled under the onslaught of Boone's tongue on his face.

"No time to sleep when you're living in a dream..." Miles motioned around at the view from the deck.

Alex looked out.

It was beautiful.

It had snowed overnight, completely covering everything in a soft white blanket, the branches piled high with heavy powder. The sky was dark, casting an eerie dimness, and snow had just started falling again, but the air was still and the temperature bearable, so the flakes were huge and silent as they fell aimlessly to the ground.

" _Jesus_ , Alex, who needs anything more when you've got this?" Miles marveled.

Alex nodded, glancing at Miles.

They shared a smile.

"Puts things in proper perspective, doesn't it?"

Miles nodded, his gaze returning to the snow.

 

" _God!_ This hand is a nightmare..." Miles mumbled, looking at the cards Alex had just dealt him.

Alex grinned as he arranged his by number and suit, deciding which were more strategic than others.

"Speaking of nightmares...would you... _you know_...like to talk about yours?" He looked over the cards, his eyes rising softly behind thick lashes to gauge Miles' reaction.

Miles' head shot up to level a steely gaze at Alex, thrown off by such a serious topic being presented during a casual game of cards.

He dismissed Alex immediately. "They're not nightmares, Alex. I'm _not_ a child. They're just bad dreams...and I usually handle them better. I'm just a little thrown off being here, so my sleep pattern is fucked and I wake up...that's all..."

Alex snorted lightly, more to himself, and moved a card to a new position in his hand. "Okay...we'll call them _bad dreams_ then...we've all had them, Miles...it helps to talk about them...gets them out of your system. Honestly, I remember Mal was really worried about his mom's health once and couldn't get through a night without waking up so we—"

"Alex. Thank you for your concern, but it's not necessary. I'll try to do better at sleeping more soundly, so I don't wake you." Miles snapped, cutting Alex completely off. 

Alex looked up from his hand and immediately wanted to take the entire conversation back, realizing he had just waded into off-limit waters, so he hurriedly added, hoping to patch things up.

"No, it's no problem. I just thought you might want to talk about it. I'm... _uh_...here... _you know._..if you change your mind..."

Miles nodded and placed a card on the pile, wanting only to continue the game and end the conversation.

"It's nothing, Alex, so there's nothing to talk about. And I won't change my mind, but thank you for the offer. I'll try to sleep better..."

And he left it at that, playing the rest of the evening with his jaw tight, his entire expression cloudy and closed-off as though he couldn't finish the game fast enough.

 

Alex wanted to kick himself for bringing up the nightmares.

It had been weeks since the accident and the nightmares were tapering off, but Miles still woke some nights, visibly upset, and Alex worried that Miles somehow still felt unsafe. He thought talking about it might help Miles clear his thoughts and ease his mind.

Why did he have to go and say anything at all?

Why couldn't he just be quiet and mind his own business?

He was always hurting instead of helping, always making things worse.

Everything had been just fine before he opened his stupid mouth and now Miles looked tired and angry, his body stiff in defense.

After the game, Miles stood quickly, the backs of his knees noisily pushing the chair backwards in haste as he excused himself, retiring to bed early, leaving Alex and Boone sitting by the fire.

Alex stared at the flames long and hard until his eyes were stinging.

He then opened his journal and wrote down a few thoughts about denial, mistakes, bad decisions, and regret.

 

One late afternoon, Alex and Boone returned after working on the generator and checking the cabin's perimeter for fallen branches after the storm that had passed through overnight. The snowfall had been heavier than predicted and there was a biting cold in the air that Alex was happy to finally be out of.

Boone shook off on the deck, ridding her fur of the icy clumps of snow clinging to her belly, tail, and legs before she moved past Alex and headed straight towards the fire.

He smiled as he entered, pulling off his gloves and watching her stare into the flames, wisely moving her body in different directions to let the warmth soothe her bones.

_God!_ He loved her.

As if reading his thoughts, Boone looked up at him and wagged her tail.

Alex quietly sat on the bench by the door and loosened enough laces to toe his boots off before unzipping and unbuttoning his parka and hanging it on a hook above the bench. He adjusted his henley, grabbed the beanie from his head, and tousled his hair from its matted state before heading towards the fire himself.

He faltered in his step halfway there when he saw Miles asleep on the couch.

It was later in the day, so Alex had guessed Miles might be napping, but he hadn't been prepared for the sight he'd see before him, or his reaction to it.

 

Miles lay stretched out along the leather cushions, the insanely soft lap blanket, Alex's favorite, bunched up across his upper thighs and lower hips.

One hand was tucked deeply into the pocket of his jeans, one slender arm crooked above his head, eyes closed peacefully, lashes dark and full against his light skin. His mouth sat slightly open, just enough to be inviting, his lips soft and shiny, maybe a little wet from a sleepy swipe of his tongue.

Boone shifted, making a low noise and Miles moved, lazily stretching his lean body out further, if that were even possible.

Alex's eyes drifted from Miles' mouth to the newly exposed skin that peeked out from under his shirt, Alex's shirt, revealing an obscenely thin line of hairs moving from his navel to just behind the top button of his jeans and then to whereabouts unknown.

Except, Alex knew exactly where those hairs trailed to and found himself imagining the way Miles' cock was tucked into the denim, how it might look, soft and sleepy, snugged up in his briefs.

And _Jesus!_ Where did that come from?

Alex desperately needed to clear his throat, it had become desert-dry and was begging for relief, but he hesitated, not wanting to wake the vision spread out before him, wanting more time to look, to travel along that enticing trail, to picture what lay beyond it, to appreciate that wet and easy mouth, that slack jaw, and those welcoming lips.

 

Miles finally started moving in a way that it was clear he was waking up. He shifted and stretched again, then his eyes fluttered open as he tried to focus.

Alex looked away then, towards the fire, and compelled his body to move in that direction.

" _Shit!_  I was out, didn't even hear you come in. Are you back sooner than expected, or did I nap that long?" Miles groaned, his voice still sleep heavy as he rubbed his face.

Alex finally cleared his throat, but his voice still came out a little lower, a little raspier, than usual.

"A little of both..."

Miles moved to a sitting position and Alex moved closer to the fire, sitting on the floor beside Boone and taking a paw into his hands, gently searching through the pads with his thumb for chunks of ice that may have been trapped there during the hike.

Boone lifted each paw for Alex while resting her head on the blanket, enjoying his loving touch.

Miles stood and stretched, his arms reaching high above as if wanting his fingers to graze the rafters, his shirt, Alex's shirt, revealing a larger portion of his tight belly and a better view of the line of hair that was currently driving Alex crazy.

Alex sucked in his breath and looked down at Boone, who was already running down a dream, in a field of wildflowers, somewhere warm.

Miles made off to the bathroom, giving Alex the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

What the hell was he thinking?

He moved to a chair and sunk in deep, grabbing his journal from the side table as the worn leather swallowed him whole.

By the time Miles returned, Alex had jotted down some phrases about unexpected attraction, cautiousness, bad choices, repeating mistakes, and misguided longing.

 

When Alex was sure Miles was completely out of danger healthwise, he took him on his first hike.

Alex picked an easier trail, not wanting to push things, but what it lacked in sharp inclines and rocks, it made up for in smells and views.

Deep in the thick of the forest, down a gentle slope, and through deep snow, the musty scent of wet pine and decaying leaves was heavy, especially after it mixed with the air warmed by body heat and permeated through the scarves they held over their mouths and noses.

It was one of Alex's favorite walks during summer, but now even more in winter. The canopy of evergreens overhead held back much of the snow so the hike was relatively easy, and large clumps of snow occasionally fell with a soft thudding, their weight eventually forcing the branches to release their hold.

Boone was beyond pleased to have both her humans outside and she woofed excitedly as she darted back and forth in the snow.

At the end of the trail, the trees cleared and there was one short uptake of dirt and rocks, maybe the equivalent of a flight of stairs. Alex assisted Miles by holding out his arm to catch and steady him if he slipped. 

They came to the top of the small hill and stopped, Miles holding a stitch in his bad side, panting and slightly out of breath.

Alex grinned and pulled down his scarf, waiting and watching for Miles to finally take in the view.

Miles stilled, his face still mostly covered by beanie and scarf as he peered out over the frozen lake surrounded by snow-covered boulders and dark green pine, the naked aspens and their ominous, white-barked eyes watching him, welcoming him to their secret spot in the woods.

The sun shone off the ice, making it even shinier, and a small flock of stubborn geese swam around the only spot left unfrozen, a very small area, kiddie-pool sized. They would soon be flying elsewhere, looking for another available water source.

" _Jesus_ , Alex...this is...just... _fuck_..." Miles' words finally caught up with his amazement and he pushed his scarf past his chin, his breath vaporizing into cold, wet smoke as it left the warmth of his body.

 

Alex nodded, smiling at Miles' inability to say anything more.

"This is where I hung out as a kid...the view is lyric-worthy in summer or winter, and spring and autumn, too, to be honest...something about it always stays the same even though it changes..."

"This is just...it's just unbelievable how fucking gorgeous this is..."

Alex chuckled and pointed across the water to a clearing surrounded by huge, smooth rocks.

"See there? That's our own little, white sandy beach...you get there by following the trail another half mile or so. I'll take you there one of these days, if you're up for it. We'd dry ourselves on the warm rocks after a day of canoeing and swimming. Nothing better..."

Movement in the woods startled the geese and they took flight unexpectedly, the guys watching as they flapped and circled, trying awkwardly to get in line with the rest.

"One flew east...one flew west..." Alex muttered, watching them fly in scattered unison.

"One flew over the cuckoo's nest..." Miles finished Alex's thoughts.

He glancied at Alex, grinning in response to Alex's chuckle. 

"So, hey, can we go out there?" Miles pointed, eyeing the glassy ice, a boyish gleam in his eyes.

"No, it's not safe. You never know how thick the freeze is...don't want to take the chance..."

"Alex, I really think we could walk out there...it's frozen solid, watch..." Miles picked up a rock about the size of a football and winced as he hurled it clumsily onto the lake below where it landed with a sharp crack then slid a fair distance over the ice before coming to rest.

"See?"

"Yes, because you and that rock are so close in weight, Miles..."

" _C'mon_ , it'd be fun...our own private skating rink...do you have skates?"

"No, Miles. I'm serious. You can't underestimate nature, especially in the winter...the cold, the snow, the temperature, the ice...you don't fuck around with it...it can kill you...so no going out on the lake... _ever_...and thanks for making me sound like my mum!" Alex trudged back down the hill, Boone prancing happily ahead.

"Party pooper..." Miles muttered, flipping the collar of his coat and pulling up the scarf to cover his nose, following Alex down the trail, but not before one last, longing look at the rock sitting all alone on the ice.

" _C'mon_ , Nature Boy!" Alex called out.

 

That day, Alex also showed Miles how to chop wood, despite his body not being quite ready to actually do it.

Alex insisted that Miles needed to gain all his strength back before taking on something as strenuous as splitting wood, plus he wanted to be sure Miles was acclimated properly to the elevation, that his lungs and blood were accustomed to the thinner air before he exerted himself too much.

Hiking was one thing, working the wood was another.

So, Miles sat on the deck while Alex placed a round log on the stump of what must have once been a massive tree, and then he watched the lean lines of Alex's body as he swung the axe in an arc, letting it do the work on the downward slice, its weight and gravity taking over as Alex pulled the axe in the direction he wanted it to hit the wood, which then splintered into manageable pieces for the fire.

From that point on, Miles sometimes joined them on easier hikes and helped with the wood, while others he'd remain at the cabin, resting, cooking, or reading while Alex and Boone went off on their own.

The balance couldn't have been any better suited for both men, with companionship and solitude wrapped up as one.

 

"You know, I was thinking...there have been tons of stories written about us..." Miles grinned as he came from the shower, clothed but still warm, damp, and soft.

Alex paused and looked up from his notebook. "What do you mean?"

"You know...the two-strangers-forced-to-live-together-and-eventually-fall-in-love scenario..." Miles teased as he plopped on the floor next to Boone.

Alex made a face. " _Jesus!_ What kind of books are you reading, Miles? Cheap, romance novels?"

"I told you I'm a voracious reader. I read everything. And don't put it down, Alex...if we had Internet, I'd happily introduce you to alternative fiction...and you'd fucking eat it up. Got a favorite book or movie? _Bam!_ I guarantee there's been stories written about it. I'm telling you, Alex, it would consume your every waking moment..."

Miles wiggled his eyebrows and grinned lecherously, his fingers digging deep into the scruff of Boone's neck as she fell docile and pliant in absolute pleasure.

" _Hell_ , for all you know, there might even be something written about you and the band..."

 

Alex snorted.

"Well, I _highly_ doubt that. Anyway, we're two sane adults, Miles, and we'll conduct ourselves accordingly..." Alex set his notebook aside and stood from his chair, removing his pullover as he spoke.

Miles watched as Alex's shirt also rode up, revealing pale skin where Alex's belly and hipbone collided above his low-slung pants, a fine mix of soft and hard.

"...things don't happen in real life the way they do in fairy tales or novels or _whatever_ it is that you read...and we won't fall prey to some lame story arc. We're better than that..." Alex made his way to the fire to shift the logs around.

"Yeah, you're right, Alex...I was just kidding...we're _so_ much better than that..." Miles agreed, his eyes lingering on the jut of Alex's shoulder blades and the dip of his lower back that led to the perfect swell of his ass before he redirected his focus to Boone's belly, repeating to himself over and over again.

Don't do this.

Don't even think it.

You don't want this.

Bad idea.

Just.

Don't.

 

Boone lay on her blanket by the fire, her strong head resting on her giant paws, once again watching her humans as they secretly watched each other.

They were such an odd species, couldn't smell the arousal that hung thick and heavy between them, the scent of desire, each man instead taking turns furtively eyeing the other, their bodies painfully tingling with want while the other remained oblivious.

Boone's head would tilt back and forth between her paws to watch more closely as Miles gazed over his book when Alex emerged from a shower, scribbled in his journal, or played with his hair, then it would drift to watch Alex peek a stare through his long strands of hair as Miles worked in the kitchen, turned the pages in his book, or lazily touched his arm or neck.

Why didn't one simply give in to the urge both were suppressing and advance on the other, circling him with stiff legs before finally pouncing and crowding him, pressing close as he nuzzled and licked at his neck, tussling playfully before finally taking control and holding him down, claiming, jaws clamped on neck, firmly and gently, having the other fully submit?

She knew they both wanted it.

Why didn't they?

 

Boone let out a rumbling moan as she shifted and stood, dipping the front of her body into a long, deep stretch, then stretching each back leg out.

She looked at her humans again and chuffed.

And these were supposed to be the smartest in the animal kingdom, highest on the food chain.

She thought not.

Time for a run.

She headed to the door, letting out a soft woof which triggered Alex to his feet, talking to her in his deep, loving voice as he took her face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together and scrunching her ears, asking her to come back soon.

He then opened the door and she was off.

To the wilds.

Where the world was easier.

And made a lot more sense.


End file.
